Recall Alice When She Was Just Small
by Harmonic Friction
Summary: Dudley Dursley: champion boxer, crass chav, cannibal?, bad boyfriend, good son, annoying cousin, best friend. It's hard to keep all the identities straight. Fin.
1. Chasing Rabbits

**Title: **Recall Alice When She Was Just Small

**AN: **For Harry's point of view during chapters 4 through 9, check out _Go Ask Alice When She's Ten Feet Tall. _That fic is the reason why this one exists. Also, I own Sarah Cleelvans, Colin Bard, Coach White, and any other characters that are not from canon, except for Clarice Ryan, Cam Ryan, and Mrs. Ryan who belong to **ronwheezyrox** and can be found in further adventures in the fic _All the Kids. _(Thanks for letting me use them! Especially a/u to your reality!) The encounter with Mary-Anne Johns is based loosely on an idea by Twitch-Hopeless Savage. Also, Jefferson Airplane's song _White Rabbit _inspired the mood of the initial idea, and also provided many, many chapter titles. Other references belong to Lewis Carrol, NIN, etc.

**Warning: Rated Teen. **Alcohol, angst, minor drug references and use, terrible language and mildly gritty sexual encounters

**Thanks to: **The HP fandom and Dudley for making life a lot clearer, and to everyone who's been keeping up with the Alice Series.

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**Recall Alice When She Was Just Small**

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"Are you _certain _you don't need a present for Piers' party? I can take you really quickly to the shopping centre, Duddydums, you wouldn't want to show up without something, would you?" Petunia Dursley nagged sweetly, her hands upon the shoulders of her massive teenage son, who was attempting to shave in the bathroom. 

"Oi _Mum_," Dudley Dursley protested in a whiny voice, thus spraying strong-smelling foam into the sink," back off!"

Mrs. Dursley did just that, but looked gooey-eyed and saddened. "_Dudley, sweetheart, _I'm really _not _being mean," she quavered as though she might burst into tears," I just want you to make a good impression!" She wrung her hands.

Dudley threw his mother an irate glance through the mirror while she was looking at the rug, but paused to rinse with hot water. He'd all ready purchased (in a very loose sense) Piers' gift, but it wasn't something he thought his mother should know about. He knew that honesty was supposed to be the best policy, but he really didn't want to complicate anything. His mother liked things wholesome, straight-laced and simple, and Dudley had no problem lying to give her just that. He felt it extremely valiant of himself to be so kind.

Petunia waited expectantly, and after he had toweled off, he turned around and heaved a sigh. _"Mum. _I know you aren't being mean. But I don't need to get him anything. We're not like, nine years old or whatever. You don't got to come with some wrapped present with a fu—" Dudley paused and Petunia raised her eyebrow. He was about to use a word he guessed his mother wasn't really familiar with, so he tried to think of one that might give him a better chance of leaving the house without undergoing a Family Meeting. _'What starts with f that isn't 'fucking'?' _Dudley thought worriedly. The trouble with the last few weeks of school was that teachers didn't care about spelling or grammar anymore, so Dudley really hadn't had a chance to further his vocabulary before summer. He burst out with: "A present with a—a-- _fun _bow." _'Oh Christ, that sounded so damned queer.' _

"I understand, I'm sorry, Duddy—"

"Mum, s'all right," Dudley said painstakingly. _'Please don't cry.' _

"Is something wrong, sweetums?" Petunia continued. "I know you're a big boy now but I just need to make certain we're still connected, I want to be close to you!"

Dudley closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. _'She always makes it tough,' _he thought, and then gave her his signature phony smile. "It's cool, Mum. We're close. It's all good. You're just-- kind of in my space right now! Think you could give me some room?"

"Of course!" Petunia exclaimed, flipping back her long blonde hair and nodding quickly, as though a light bulb had just gone off above her head. "Of course, I'm sorry, I just want to make sure I'm being a good mother, that's all—"

_'Oh my fucking God,' _the boy thought darkly.Petunia had been talking like this a lot lately. Dudley had to wonder if it was because the school nurse had complained to her last year about what were referred to as his 'health problems'.

This pissed Dudley off extensively. He had no _health _problems. He was _perfectly _healthy! Just large! It wasn't something he felt bad about, nor did he feel like he had to apologise to anyone about it, or change himself in order to make amends to the world. He had what the school nurse called "a food problem", meaning he enjoyed eating to the point of never stopping. He'd been dieting almost religiously for about a year, after Mum nearly flipped out, and now he hadn't really _lost _any weight—it had simply bulked into muscle. This made him an even greater threat to the kids in the neighborhood and to his father's great delight, he'd joined the boxing team as of this past school year, earning him the title of best in the Surrey area, and also the new nickname Big D. Dudley presently stood at six feet and had enormous broad shoulders, a hulking frame and strong, thick arms.

Dudley _enjoyed _being enormous. His weight had always been a way for him to establish the fact that he was the man in charge and he liked it that way. He knew that people like his cousin Harry regarded him as fat: A twelve Dudley had stayed home "sick" from school (actually, he didn't want to miss a television special that was airing at noon that day), and being bored, he had rummaged through Harry's things. Upon doing so, he realized that his wizard cousin wrote hateful letters about him to his friends—he found one to a person named Ron (it might have been the same weirdo who had called them once on the phone) in which Harry referred to him only as the 'pig.' But after awhile, Dudley really wasn't bothered. After all, was _Harry _a champion high school boxer? Did _Harry _know where the best place was to deck a guy so hard he felt down unconscious? No. Harry was a skinny little twerp who couldn't hurt a stuffed teddy. Dudley was perfectly content with being his size. He didn't have _time_ to play the Fat Kid for Harry. He had much better things to do.

"Honestly," he barked a little sourly, his false charm running thin. "You're great, Mum. Now can I be in the loo in peace?"

Petunia nodded again, apparently satisfied, because she said nothing more, smiled, and let him be, closing the door.

Dudley made a face in the mirror. Life would be so much easier if she wasn't always caring so damn much.

--

Dudley Dursley's room smelled like a million different brands of cologne and socks. All kinds of video games were scattered on the floor (all chock full of blood and guts, because Dudley refused to play anything that wasn't rated Mature), school books gathered dust on his one shelf, and his shiny boxing gloves were perched atop his brand new stereo. He kicked aside several compact disks and pulled open his bottom dresser drawer, pulling out two bottles of whiskey and placing them carefully into his backpack. He'd had to be really sneaky about lifting them from the store and he felt very proud of his stealth. He'd appointed Malcom and Dennis to keep watch at the liquor store, and then he'd waited until the aisle was empty, filling his school bag with various alcohol. As soon as he was ready to leave, Dennis had actually stolen a bottle of wine quite obviously, forcing the store clerk to chase him down, thus creating a diversion for Dudley. Dennis was very stupid, but Dudley couldn't be so stealthy if it weren't for him.

Piers and Dudley both appreciated whiskey more than their friends, who chugged their mothers' wine or took brandy in their tea as though they were really bad. Piers was a good complement to Dudley. He was at least a head shorter and thin; a total lightweight. Dudley often made fun of him for this, but he wouldn't want to hang out with anyone who drank more than he did. He was Big D, after all, and no one was allowed to do anything better or _worse_ than him—this might result in being kicked out of his gang.

He considered putting in the bag of weed he'd bought off Damien Pierce at school last week, but instead left it in his drawer for another time. He didn't appreciate Piers' friendship _that _much.

He hitched up his backpack, gave a peace sign to the poster of the scantily clad brunette on his wall, and headed downstairs.

"Tell Piers happy birthday from us, Duddy!" Petunia smiled, blowing him a kiss from over the stove where she was cooking something that had an odor like the dye she had once used to make clothing gray for Harry.

"Have fun, son!" Vernon said from the table, working on his orders from the office. "Don't get into any trouble, now!" The two adults laughed amusedly as though this were a hilarious, imaginary prospect that would _never _happen to their son.

Dudley managed a fake snort. "Yeah…Right," he said slowly. "Bye Mum, bye Dad."

"Love you, popkin!"

"Love you, too."

* * *


	2. Knight Talking Backwards

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Chapter Two: Knight Talking Backwards

**

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**

"_Big D!" _Piers Polkiss greeted, his brown bangs hanging in his face limply. "Come on in, dude, thought you'd never get here—"

Dudley nodded in response and bent down to get inside Piers' house. Piers lived alone with his quiet mother who was almost always off on business. This gave the gang a place to convene. However, it was not a house designed for boys- especially boys of their sizes and statures. It was the most uncomfortable place for Dudley in the entire world. It only seemed ideal for small women and old people—there were flowers everywhere, collector's item dollies and glass plates displayed on the walls. Dudley felt like every move he made was a risk. Right at that moment, in fact, his shoulder bumped into the little wire coat rack in the front hall and Piers had to run like mad to grab it and prop it up again before it hit the floor.

"Er, careful Big D," Piers said cautiously.

"Shut the fuck up," Dudley replied, walking further into the house while Piers hung panting by his side like some sort of faithful, malnutritioned pet. Malcom Dale and Gordan Trout were playing cards at the frilly dining room table and waved to Dudley as he entered.

"Yo, D," greeted Malcom. He was a well-built black boy with very short hair and large dark eyes.

Dudley set down his back on the kitchen counter, grabbing a handful of crisps. "So what's new?" he asked while chewing, unzipping his pack.

"Well, _Polkiss _said there was going to be girls at this party but I don't see any," snarled Malcom heavily, eying Piers with anger.

"Heh, calm down!" Piers said quickly. "Of _course _there are going to be girls, what kind of party would it _be?"_

Dudley sighed. Piers was a lot of talk when it came down to it. _'I've never even seen him talk to a girl, let alone have one at his house,' _Dudley thought to himself. In fact, Dudley's gang was made up of men's men. They'd been friends since forever, and not much had really changed in their circle. Girls on the block were often included in Privet Park activity, but they hardly hung out with the gang. Big D's crew invoked terror, and the girls who _were_ keen on them were hard and spiteful. But at school, most girls steered clear of them, and either insulted or worshipped them on the side.

Dudley was made leader of the gang long ago when it was obvious he was the burliest of the lot, but as the years went by, he reinstated his management position through other means. He was widely popular in the circle for his sexual endeavors, which were sworn secrets in the Privet Drive teen community. The summer before fourth year, for example, Dudley had been poking around Privet Park with the usual suspects when an older girl named Mary-Anne Johns had started talking to him. He'd seen her around the neighborhood, but had never spoken to her directly. She was about seventeen at the time and was one of the girls whom Dudley and his gang did stupid stuff to impress.

'Oi, you,' she'd said, beckoning at Dudley. Malcom had misinterpreted the gesture and had walked forward, which earned him a: 'Oi! Not _you, _the chubby one.' Frowning, Dudley stepped out. He was especially angry this summer about any comments regarding his weight, as it was the year he had been advised to get on a strict diet. But much as Dudley resented being referred to as "the chubby one", he felt as though he could forgive _Mary-Anne Johns _for it, if only this once. 'You're cute,' she'd said next, in a sweet, motherly tone. 'Dursley, right?' Dudley had muttered something in response. She'd laughed; not a giggle, like girls Dudley's age, but an outright cackle. 'You're a virgin, aren't you?' she'd asked next.

Now, this was problematic and humiliating for Dudley, because although Dennis and the rest of the lot were all virgins, too, he didn't want to be the first one to admit it. He also didn't want to tell _Mary-Anne Johns _he was a virgin, of all people! He hadn't kissed any girls yet, let alone had sex with them. He hated dances, and whenever he saw students from the all-girls school across the way, his first reaction was to throw stones at them. (His second was to pray that a big gust of wind roared by, as to make their skirts fly up.)

'No!' he'd lied defensively, his mates chortling at him and punching his arms.

'Really, when did you do it, last year? When you were ten?' she'd shot at him with a simper, the smoke drifting lazily out of her cigarette.

'For your information, I'm almost fourteen,' Dudley had snapped,' and I've done it loads of times.'

'Well, then, Dursley, if you've done it so many times, we should shag.' Her green eyes sparkled with a sort of tantalizing malice.

The stunned look on Dudley's face had given it all away, but _Mary-Anne Johns _just grinned and took him by the hand, like a baby-sitter would, leading him to the park restroom where she proceeded to take his virginity against the dirty brick wall. It had been obvious that it was his first time—he was hugely tense and he'd only lasted less than a minute— so she'd kissed him on the cheek afterward and shared some weed with him behind the merry-go-round. 'I'm sure you'll get good soon,' she'd said confidently. 'Now you stay in school,' she'd said mockingly,' and I'll see you around. I have to go call on my boyfriend now. That ruddy bastard.'

After Dudley had come home that night from the park, he'd felt both special and uncertain of what he'd learned that day.

Since then, he had been regarded as a hero, and when he joined the boxing team, his popularity (or infamousness) had spread like wildfire. The boxing crowd added more notches to Dudley's ever-lengthening maturity belt, including raucous drinking and cigarettes. He in turn passed these new talents onto his gang, who were all rowdy enough to begin with. No one wanted to mess with Big D _or _his crew. But when it came to sex, most of Dudley's friends had only had trivial relationships, though Dennis Clarke (stupid or not) was popular with the women and _did _seem to get a lot of dates.

Piers went on, leaning against the kitchen counter beside Dudley: "I'm totally going to score with Sarah. I've always seen her in gym and I know she's checking me out."

Dudley had a slight mental picture of the girl Piers was referring to. He recalled her coming by his house a long time ago, but he hadn't really seen her since. _'Black hair? Little?'_

"Sarah? Sarah Cleelvans? No _way. _She's going to be here? She's a freak," whistled Gordan, playing his hand. He was fair-haired with the thick body of a Rugby player. "Damien said she sucked him in a trade for a cigarette."

"What a liar!" Malcom spat, and then looked interested. "Are you serious?" He turned desperately to Piers. "Is she going to be here!?" he demanded.

"Heh, sure she's gonna be here. I asked her yesterday."

"Yesterday? You asshole!" Malcom declared. "Girls _hate _when you give them short notice on anything! Are you a fuckhead? She's not going to show up!"

Dudley sniggered, but the rest of the boys looked gloomy.

Piers shifted uncomfortably. "You don't really think so, do you?" he squeaked. "Big D?"

"Oh _shit," _Dudley spat out thickly. "Who cares?" He handed Piers a quart of whiskey, holding the other bottle in his own hand. "Happy birthday, mate. Fuck girls, right?"

Giving the other gang members a little simper, Piers grabbed seized the bottle energetically. "Thanks, man! Best present ever!"

"Thought you'd enjoy—"

"It's from Dennis, too," Malcom laughed.

"So, cheers," Dudley announced. The two boys drank heavily from their bottles and then passed them over to Gordan and Malcom.

"So who else is coming?" Malcom wanted to know, wiping his mouth on his shirt.

"Shut up," Dudley declared, rolling his eyes and sitting in one of the dining room chairs. Like everything else in the house, it was very delicate and creaked loudly from the weight of him. Piers looked momentarily like he might have a seizure.

When his fears of the chair breaking were not confirmed, Piers turned back to Malcom. "Oh, you know, just some people."

"You are so pathetic," the boy replied. "Ha! Another win." Gordan sighed. "Big D, looking forward to the nerd coming home for summer hols?"

"The what?" Dudley asked loudly, annoyed because Malcom wouldn't stop talking. "Potter? No! You being a smart ass? Of course I'm not looking forward to it!" The volume of his voice was suddenly rising to the point of shouting. He raised his knuckle and cracked it.

He hated when anyone mentioned Harry, who was really nothing more than an arrogant beanpole, in his opinion. He was also a _wizard, _which still befuddled Dudley to this day—he hadn't really ever understood what it all was about, but it upset Mum and Dad. And at the moment nothing was more important than _not _upsetting Mum and Dad. Because if Mum and Dad _ever _suspected Dudley of smoking, blazing, drinking or having pre-martial sex, he didn't know _what _would happen to his picturesque existence at Number Four. They didn't need to know he'd created his _own _diet.

Malcom's eyes widened. "Uh—sorry, wasn't trying to bring any bad shit up, dude—"

"Quit running your mouth, then!" Dudley shot at him, taking another swig from the whiskey bottle. "Fuck, we don't _need _girls with you talking so damned much."

Piers burst into painfully gloating giggles, subsiding only when Dudley shot _him _a dirty look.

And then all of a sudden, the doorbell rang.

Piers gasped. "Told you so!" he cried out, and scurried off to answer it.

Gordan raised his eyebrows at Dudley and Malcom. "Sometimes I don't know why we're mates with such a nancy," he said dully.

The door opened and animated chatting filled the hallway. _And some of the voices were female!_

Gordan stopped talking immediately and sat staring at the doorway with a dumbfounded expression. Malcom was quiet also, and despite himself, Dudley followed suit.

"WOOO!" a guy's voice screamed, and Dennis ran into the kitchen and skid on the floor, as he wasn't wearing any shoes.

"You bastard," Dudley said.

"WHAT'S UP, GUYS?" Dennis grinned crazily. He had on a red striped tie that Dudley was sure would piss his father off immensely. He was a tall, broad boy with a big, dense smile and lots of dimples that, for some reason, a lot of girls found attractive. Case in point: Two people of the female gender strode into the kitchen, giggling.

Dudley recognized one of them as Susan Epcot, the wavy-haired redhead from Number Seven whose dolls he used to set on fire. The other girl he didn't know. She was leggy and brunette with enormous breasts.

"See!" Piers had said loudly, as though they all needed vocal cues to spot females.

"Hi," said Malcom stupidly, eying the dark-haired girl.

"Hey there," she said coolly, sending each of them a furtive look. "I'm Emily."

"Hi Emily. I'm Malcom."

Dudley kicked him under the table (which of course was such a hard force that Malcom's chair gave a noisy jolt), but noticed the girl was staring at him expectantly. "Dudley Dursley!" he said like a command, unable to look her in the eye—her chest was just so very captivating.

"Big D, rather," Dennis added. "And that's Gordan, and you've met our BIRTHDAY BOY!" He suddenly latched onto Piers and put him into a headlock. The girls giggled almost as though they didn't understand anything that had just happened. "Lookie what I brought," Dennis continued, and then noticed he must have left whatever it was in the hallway. He ran off and returned with two cases of beer.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Dudley snarled. "You pussy."

"_Oi_!" said Dennis, who didn't like being mocked in front of the female gender, apparently. "Some of us aren't like you."

"Damn fucking right, you're not."

Piers nodded. "Yeah!"

Dudley glared at him.

Everyone stared awkwardly at each other.

"So you lot go to Smeltings?" Emily inquired, and pulled up a chair, sitting down beside the wide-eyed Malcom whom Dudley was ready to punch in the mouth for being such an idiot.

"Oh yeah," Piers said, "It's great."

"Not _that _great," Dudley said. _'What in the hell?' _he thought._ 'Why try and act all big about Smeltings- it's just not that cool. Showing off for girls, that's shit.'_

Emily focused on him suddenly. "I remember you! Your picture was in the newspaper! You were like, top boxing champion this year, right?"

"Yeah, I was," Dudley answered loudly, crossing his arms across his chest in order to demonstrate just how strong his arms were. "Not only the best at Smeltings, but in the entire area. I once punched this guy right in the throat and he was down for about two hours! They had to call an ambulance!"

Malcom and Piers nodded intently, but Dudley was confused to see that, rather than being impressed, the big-chested girl looked concerned.

"Was he okay?" she asked.

Dudley didn't know how to answer. _'What kind of fucking question is that!? Who cares? It was awesome. They called an ambulance, it was like, crazy,' _he thought.The other two boys seemed to be just as bewildered by Emily's response as he was. There was a short silence.

"I get good marks in swimming," Piers offered.

Emily gave him a look like he was a neglected baby and stood up to get a drink. Susan sighed.

Dennis ran into the parlour and turned up Piers' mum's old radio. It was on some classical station, and everyone booed. Despite Piers' whining that "mother doesn't like when people touch the dials!", Dennis quickly changed it to rap and began to jump on the couch. Emily and Susan giggled again.

Dudley made a face at Malcom, who shrugged back.

"Who else is coming?" asked Susan, fingering her curly hair.

"Oh, people, you know," Piers said. "Did you get any of your girlfriends to come?"

Susan and Emily smirked at each other and giggled again. "Well," Susan went on," no offense, Dudley, but Veronica says she doesn't really feel comfortable around you after the party at Damien's place. She's afraid you'll pull out your—_you _know again."

Emily gave a little shriek. _"What? Are you serious?"_

"It wasn't such a big deal," Dudley shrugged. "She was being a bitch and talking shit about how she thought she saw me one time and I had a small cock. I was pissed so I showed her. That girl won't tell lies _again._"

"I think it _was _a big deal!" Malcom burst out, and he and Dudley gave each other high-fives.

"You're serious, then?" Emily demanded.

"Well, yeah, you want a show?" Dudley asked in a snarl.

Giggling uncomfortably, the girls regarded Dudley with awed expressions. "Anyway," Susan voiced uneasily," she's not going to come. And Clarice is definitely out, I think her exact words were: _I'd rather watch a twelve hour tele show on beets.' _"

"She's such a princess," Emily scoffed. "God, she won't even sniff glue in art or anything."

Dudley shifted in his chair. He'd always liked Clarice Ryan, for some bizarre reason. They used to throw paint at each other in nursery school and once he'd caught a glimpse of her on the toilet (mistakenly, though he told everyone he'd been trying to see her in the nuddy pants). She'd seemed to hate him ever since though, which might have been for the best, because Dudley didn't want his friends knowing he'd go after such a polished girl if he had the chance. When Dudley came out of his thoughts, he found that Susan was still blathering on:

"And Melanie had to go get her hair cut, well, she got her hair cut _last week, _but her stylist really made it look shitty, the colour's all off now, and she charged her thirty quid all the same, but she said she might come if it doesn't look too hideous and Sarah should be here soon."

"Sarah Cleelvans?" Emily laughed. "That slag. I heard she doesn't wear pants."

Malcom looked like he might melt into the table and Piers breathed in loudly.

"That's rubbish!" countered Susan. "Her skirts are so short that I've had to notice them, believe me, I wasn't trying either. She's probably all ready stoned."

"Slag," repeated Emily.

Dudley was having a very difficult time deciphering the conversation (it was sounding more like high-frequency radio communication), so he got up and walked heavily into the living room, where Dennis was all ready on the verge of being drunk and still dancing on the couch. By this time, a few other boys had arrived unannounced and were playing video games. Piers noticed and started pestering them repeatedly "not to break the television."

Upon shoving Dennis to the floor, Dudley sat on the hideous, pale pink sofa, his legs spread apart wide, his hand resting on his knee and watched boredly as the three boys played BloodLust Twelve.

--

"Mel!" Susan squealed. "We thought you'd _never _show up! And Sarah, too!"

Dudley looked up quizzically from the couch and stared as Emily and Susan greeted the girls at the door, jumping up and down and hugging them. _'Weren't they just calling them names or something? Shit, when I'm mad at Malcom or whatever I just beat the Hell out of him and call it good.' _

Melanie Martin walked in first, wearing tight jeans and a pink tube top. She was a bitter, nosy girl with chin-length, chopped bright auburn hair (which was, apparently, now the wrong colour). Dudley had made out with her once in his fourth year and had "dated" her for one week. Since then, she'd tried to snog with everyone possible on Privet Drive, which made certain members of Dudley's gang feel unworthy.

"Hey, Big D," she said coolly with a little wave. "Happy Birthday, Piers."

At once, Polkiss jumped up from the carpet and stood, grinning foolishly. "Thanks, Mel! How are you?"

"Easy, boy," she said briskly, holding out her hand. "Just because you've turned fifteen, I'm not going to shag you or anything."

"Bad luck," snorted Dudley and Piers looked miserable.

"Why don't you come into the kitchen," he began," I can get you something to drink."

She gave him a dark look but followed.

"Oh my God, Sarah, get in here, I fucking love your outfit," Emily exclaimed, and Dudley watched to see who the slag was.

From what he could collect, Sarah Cleelvans was teeny-tiny and as thin as he was vast. She had black hair and was wearing a mini-skirt and pointed high heels, and was clutching an aerosol container of whipped cream.

"Thanks, Em," she said giggling rather madly, and stuck out the can, attempting to spray the other girl with cream.

Emily dodged. "What in the hell?"

"Oh, you're _no _fun," moped Sarah in a scornful high voice, and sprayed whipped cream into her own mouth, her head cocked backward, torso bent, the tubular can spraying soft white fluff into her open lips, her black hair fluttering around her shoulders.

Dudley couldn't help but stare at her, and felt himself stiffen.

The Sarah girl sensed that someone was looking and she made eye contact with him, smiling demurely and licking whipped cream from her upper lip. With that, she turned away. "Well, where's the birthday boy?" she asked, and linked arms with Emily, trotting along in those silly heels to the kitchen.

He grasped the armrest of the couch and lazily checked out her ass.

--

By ten o'clock, basically everyone was wasted, but Dudley was hardly as drunk as he would have liked. Piers threw terrible parties, that was for certain. In Dudley's mind, a great get-together consisted of lots of snacks and drinking contests, but Piers didn't want anyone puking or breaking stuff. Dennis was dozing on the floor, leaving a disappointed Susan to sulk in the corner with Emily. Malcom and Gordan were slightly buzzed and wrestling each other. Piers had actually coerced Melanie into kissing him: Dudley watched amusedly for a second at them making out in the corner. _'Guess every loser has his day. God, this is lame.'_

"Dudley Dursley, right?"

Dudley turned to the doorway and his eyes fell upon Sarah. She was leaning against the doorjamb, still grasping the whipped cream container. Her skirt was pulled up so high that he could see that she did in fact wear underpants.

"Yeah," he said slowly, not quite sure what he game was. Apparently, Piers had forgotten he was supposed to score with her tonight, but she didn't look all too disappointed. Compared to the other girls, she looked gleeful.

She kept gripping the wall as though she might fall down. "Don't you remember? I came by for tea last year with Piers and Cam Ryan. Your mum wanted your aunt to meet us neighborhood kids or something."

"Oh," Dudley said dully, trying to recall. _That _was where he'd known her from. He'd only hung out with her once or twice back then, and Cam had strung her along for tea. In his memory, she seemed way, _way _younger. And if he remembered correctly, her skirt was past her knees back then. "Oh yeah," he voiced coolly. "I guess I remember you. Where you been since then?"

"Around. Guess I don't see much of you anymore since my mum moved me to the alternative school across town. But I'm moving back here this year."

"Oh," Dudley said again. He was trying to think of something interesting to say, but he wasn't sure where to begin.

"Your mum was sure sweet," she said, smiling.

"Hell yeah," muttered the half-asleep Dennis. "Missus Dursley, now that's a mum I'd like to fuck. Blonde hair, smart little apron--"

Dudley zeroed in on the boy. "SAY THAT AGAIN AND I'LL MURDER YOU!" he shouted, reddening. There was no response—Dennis seemed to have fallen asleep again. Dudley refocused on the girl, who was staring at him in a way he couldn't interpret. "Er. Sorry?" he offered, even though he wasn't. He felt like he wasn't in control of what he was saying.

But she just smiled. "You're good at that, aren't you?"

"Uh. What?"

"Beating blokes up," she said easily. "I heard you beat Georgie Collins' face in once."

Dudley looked smug. "Well, you know… he was only twelve, so he was an easy opponent."

"Maybe so, but I saw you in your last match at Smeltings, and those weren't twelve-year olds," she exclaimed, flailing the hand holding the whipped cream around a little bit.

"You saw the match?"

"Yeah, me and some girls came up home to watch it. You did well." Sarah's smiled thickened as she flipped back her bangs and tugged on her skirt. Taking her hand off the wall, she walked forward, her skinny legs moving in a sort of runway model imitation. "I don't like weak boys," she said.

At this point, Dudley wasn't sure whether she was drunk or just being herself. Part of him didn't care. "Piers said he was going to fuck you tonight. You like him then?"

"Piers?" Sarah cocked her head in Polkiss and Melanie's direction. "Piers Polkiss!? Decent bloke, but no. He said that?" She chuckled. "That's rich."

"He talks big," muttered Dudley, his eyes fixed on Sarah's skirt, which seemed to be shrinking as she walked.

"He's not, though," she put in, and having crossed the room, she leaned into Dudley so that her knees were between his spread legs.

He made a face at her. "What are you playing at?"

"I'm playing nothing," she said softly. "Like I said, I came to see your match because you interest me."

"Look," Dudley barked," I don't have a cigarette to give you if that's what you're looking for!"

Sarah leaned back. "Who told you about that?"

"Doesn't matter. It's neighborhood history now. Trading head for a fag, what kind of slut are you?"

"A fag?" She laughed, her lip gloss gleaming. "They said I did it for _one fag?_"

"Well, what's the story, then?" Dudley demanded.

"It was an entire _pack _of cigarettes."

Dudley chortled darkly. "Whatever."

"Don't be like that," she pouted. "I like you, Dudley. Maybe we can hang out sometime."

Dudley stared at her, trying to figure her out. It wasn't that he was in disbelief that a girl would be into him. It was much the opposite. Large or not, being a jock was a good way to make oneself known with the girls. But Sarah was different then passing glances or giggles outside Smeltings. She seemed intent. Dudley thought to himself: _'Mum would die. Look at her get-up.'_

"You want a sniff?" she asked off-handedly, making a motion of tearing off the top of the aerosol can.

"Naw," he said. "I should probably go home. But—" he made a very gruff expression—"I _might _have time to be in the park tomorrow around three in the afternoon. If you can be there, show up. But if you can't, whatever."

"Okay," she said with a smirk, and stood up again, giving a little wave.

Dudley made no response kept eying her until he was out the door.

He was trying to play it down, but he had made his decision. Sarah Cleelvans was hot, and if anyone tried to get with her, he might just have to mess them up.

--

"Thank goodness!" called Petunia from the upstairs bedroom. "We thought you'd never get home. Did you have fun at the birthday party?"

Dudley winced. "Yeah, Mum." It hurt him to think that his mother was probably picturing a birthday cake and party hats, fifteen candles, make a wish.

* * *


	3. Red Queen

* * *

Chapter Three: Red Queen

**

* * *

**

Summer was definitely upon Surrey, and Summer was going to be a right terror this year. Dudley awoke to absurdly sweltering temperatures, the sound of the fans' whirring whispering through the house. He hadn't had too much to drink, and so his head wasn't pounding as much as usual, but he was exhausted. Bored all ready. Even when there were a billion things to do, he felt like there was nothing. School was worse because at school, there were expectations, so at least summer gave Dudley a chance to be indulged without having to think much.

"Morning, son," Vernon said from behind the paper, as Dudley sauntered into the dining room, " sit down!"

Dudley said nothing but did as his father requested. This room had always been too bright—the large windows pulled open, letting in the morning sun, Petunia at the stove with her apron, making tea. Dudley remembered the comment Dennis had made about fucking her and felt his blood pressure rise considerably. _'Fucking perverted bastard.'_

"Haven't seen much of you this week since you've been back," his father continued, by way of conversation. "Guess you've had a lot to say to your friends, then."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Dudley said nothing.

Petunia turned and smiled brightly. "Morning, Dudley. I'll bet_ you_ slept well!"

Another statement. Dudley was beginning to feel annoyed, though he couldn't put his finger on why. "Actually, it wasn't _that_ great. It was pretty hot, Mum."

"Oh," Petunia's smile faded. "I'm sure there's some way to fix that. I'll buy you a new air conditioner, that corner room hardly gets _any _breeze."

"Dudders, you should've seen that wanker at Number Ten's reaction when I told him _my _son was named Junior Heavyweight Champion—blew his mind, I did. Reckon he's only been on the receiving end of punches, eh?" Vernon chuckled, looking over his paper momentarily.

Dudley managed a smile. "Yeah, Dad, reckon so." _'Okay,' _he thought darkly.

"We were so proud," Petunia said off-handedly, as though it wasn't even part of the same conversation. She set a bowl of oatmeal in front of Dudley. It looked particularly disgusting.

Though he would have rather said: _'What the fucking hell is this shit?' _, he looked miserably at his breakfast and prodded it with a spoon as though it were half-alive. "Thanks, Mum. It was cool to see you at the last match."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Vernon declared.

"So proud," nodded Petunia, bustling over to the sink as though she had something important to do there.

"Yeah, okay, thanks," said Dudley again, irritated. He stuck his spoon in the oatmeal and raised it a few inches, then tried to let the contents plop back into the bowl. It was so thick and goopy that it simply paused in midair on the spoon. He made a face. He would give anything for a _real _breakfast—bacon, sausage, any_thing_ beside _oatmeal_, but he knew now that he was Mum and Dad's big-shot boxer, he'd have to keep up the year's strict diet or else he'd be above his weight class. And since it had taken two hours of daily workout at Smeltings, Dudley did _not _want to heighten the exercise. If this was the one thing that he could do, he wasn't going to blow it.

"Guess next weekend, He'll be coming back again," Vernon said darkly, and Petunia looked like she might scream.

Instead, she spoke crisply: "I'd rather we not talk about that until we have to, if you don't mind."

Dudley forced down the reaction to heave a dramatic sigh. It was always worse when Harry arrived, because Mr. and Mrs. Dursley seemed to enjoy _hating _Dudley's cousin than they _enjoyed _paying attention to Dudley. The Potter Summers were tense, rancid—like an annoying buzzing noise from unnamed source that never ceased to give Dudley peace. No matter how hard he and Harry attempted to give each other the cold shoulder, they _always _crossed paths.

"You'd think that his murderous godfather might've done him in by now," Vernon continued, trying to brighten his wife's mood. "You never know those insane types, shifty folk, they are! Wouldn't be surprised if the boy didn't show up at King's Cross! If not the crazy bloke, then surely one of his teachers. They must really suffer with _that _brazen little bother."

If Dudley could propose any time of rebuttal to this argument, he would say what he had been feeling for years: At primary school, no teacher had _ever _thought Harry was a "brazen little bother." If anything, they'd felt sort of sad for him, and Dudley got the feeling that no one at the freak school thought Harry was sad anymore. It rather seemed like he was popular, though Dudley didn't know why. The Dursleys had never had any real reason to think Harry was trouble, though they talked endlessly about what a hoodlum he was. Dudley, on the other hand, brought back bad report card after bad report card, and notes from school denouncing his bullying nature. But his parents seemed to skim over the details and always believed his lies. Yet _Harry _was a "brazen little bother"?

"Vernon, we shouldn't waste time contemplating His ways," Petunia declared bitterly.

Dudley got half-way through the oatmeal before feeling like he might be sick, so he drank some hot tea in a quick fashion and stood up abruptly. "I told the guys I'd meet them," he said, nodding slowly. "So I'm going out."

"Have fun, Dudley," said Vernon.

"Are you going out for tea, tonight?" asked his mother.

"Oh. Oh yeah, at Malcom's," he said.

Petunia turned around and smiled. "Say hello to them from me. They're such nice little boys."

'_Yeah, nice little boys who want to fuck you,' _Dudley thought bleakly, and left the house. Although there was air conditioning in Number Four, going outside felt much cooler—much less suffocating. He checked his digital watch. It was half-past eleven, and all ready the sun was beaming down from above. Some neighborhood children were pedaling on their bikes just ahead of him, and so he straightened up his shoulders and jutted them out, as to make himself seem more expansive. Narrowing his eyes, he stood still and crossed his arms, glaring at the kids contemptibly.

The two boys slowed down, stared at Dudley with wide eyes, made eye contact, and pedaled across the street as quickly as their little feet would allow. Dudley's chest panged, but when the kids turned around to see what his reaction was, he let out a loud, short laugh and yelled: "THAT'S RIGHT!"

The boys pedaled faster, never looking behind them again.

--

Dudley crossed Magnolia Crescent and entered Privet Park, looking around lazily to see who was there. _'Nobody worth a shit,' _he thought sullenly, for all he could see were kiddies playing in the sandbox and preteens trying to be all badass. He walked across the playground, kicking gravel as he went, making big swipes with the bottoms of his feet only, as to not mess up his pearly white trainers.

"Yo, yo, Big D," squeaked a voice from the swings.

Dudley turned to look. "Oh fuck," he said simply, rolling his eyes.

Mark Evans was coming toward him, smiling energetically. "Hey, how's it goin'? How was school this year? Haven't see you in ages—Cam said something about you beatin' up blokes in some boxing team, crikey, that's cool—"

"Shut the _hell _up, Mark," Dudley replied assertively, walking forward as the boy came at him and pushing him aside (well, it was more like one of his broad shoulders hit Mark in the forehead and the boy did a sort of tuck-and-roll into the gravel). Dudley grabbed hold of one of the swings, and using all of his strength, he catapulted it over the swingset three times and then wrenched it all together in a knot. Several kids stared up at him, horrified.

"_Wicked _cool," announced Mark Evans, who strode forward and attempted to flip the swing over the set. He only succeeded in throwing it into the air, and it sailed down and hit him in the face.

Dudley burst into sniggers. "Oh my god."

"I meant to do that!"

"That was funny shit." Dudley headed off toward the southern end of the park, where there were benches, restrooms and a small, old wooden gazebo. He sat at the edge of one of the benches and lit up a cigarette, exhaling long and slowly, making completely certain he made threatening eye contact with every single kid that dared look his way. _'This is good, right?' _he wondered suddenly, but pushed the thought out of his head.

"Big D, hey," said Melanie, who had been smoking by the restrooms and was now striding back. "Have fun last night?"

He shrugged. "It pretty much sucked."

"_I _heard you had fun," she said smugly.

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

The short-haired girl shrugged slyly. "Sarah said you two talked."

"Yeah… so what?"

"So… do you _like_ her?"

Dudley squinted at her through dark blue eyes. "I don't know. She came round my house for tea one time, I guess. Haven't seen her since then," he said gruffly.

"She fancies _you," _Melanie went on.

"Kind of obvious, though, isn't it?" Dudley said tonelessly, but he was intrigued.

"You should _go _with her. She's really _nice!"_

"Shut _up_. I'll do what I feel like, all right?" grinned Dudley.

"Whatever, Dursley."

"Yeah, well, what about you? Have fun sucking face with Piers?" he chided.

Melanie shrugged. "He's not so bad. His lips are sort of wet, though."

"Christ!" Dudley declared. "There are some things I don't really care to know, thanks."

"He's kind of sweet though, in a dumb way."

"Yeah, well, he said he wanted to fuck Sarah, so I guess you're second best, then," Dudley said casually, taking a drag off his cigarette, and not at all noticing Melanie's cloudy expression.

"I don't—" she started to say, and then thought better of it. "I guess I'd better go."

"What? You're not going to wait for him? He'll probably be here soon."

"No, I think I might… go home," she put in a little strangely, and went off pretty fast.

'_What was that about?'_

--

It was around two o'clock, and the lot had finally gathered. Cam Ryan and Piers were in a wrestling match, while Malcom and Dennis traded sex talk, and Gordan and Dudley smoked by the sandbox.

"Hey, dude, I heard you and Sarah are hookin' up," Gordan said, flinging his butt onto the grass.

Dudley stared at him. "All you pussies sure gossip a lot."

"No, dude, no. I heard it from Piers 'cause Mel told him."

"Whatever."

The two boys stood in silence for a minute or so.

"She's hot, dude," the fair-haired boy shrugged.

"What did you say?" snapped Dudley.

"Hey, Big D, you said—"

"It doesn't _matter _what I said. Don't fucking talk about her like that."

"Okay?"

"What, have people been saying shit about her?" Dudley asked finally, blowing out smoke.

"Uh—thought I wasn't supposed to talk about it…"

"_Now _you can. Like, what do people say?"

Gordan was beginning to look a bit fearful, as though one wrong move might be his farewell. "I don't know, like I just said, I mean, no offense or whatever, but most people say she's kind of hot, I guess."

"Yeah? Like, has she gone with other guys?"

"I don't know. All I know was she gave him head but—"

"She have sex with him?"

"Dude, I don't know. Why?"

Dudley shrugged. "Just making sure she's not some total ho or something."

"Right on." Gordan nodded. "Dude, Piers, what's up with _you_?" he declared suddenly. Dudley turned to look. Piers was standing only inches from them, staring widely.

"What's your problem?" Dudley grunted.

Piers kept staring. "Any of you seen Mel?"

"Uh _yeah," _Dudley replied," can you please back the hell out of my face now?"

"Sorry, D. Where did you see her?" Piers inquired, backing off just a tad.

"While ago, dude. Said she had to go home."

"That's funny. I told her to meet me. I was gonna ask her out."

"Oh." Dudley shrugged and put out his cigarette. "Tough."

"Well, I guess there's still Sarah. She's better looking, right?"

It was Gordan's turn to back off, then. He pressed himself up against the brick wall, attempting to look as small as a large teenage boy like himself could muster.

Dudley glared at Polkiss. "You back off from her. She fancies _me."_

Piers blinked. "I—I didn't know—"

"Yeah, well, now you bloody _do, _so you'd best step off!"

"O—kay," Piers warbled, looking considerably confused. "Look, I'm not tryin' to _start _anything, D, it's just, yesterday I kinda said that_ I_ was after her, but if—"

"Ooh," Gordan said quietly.

In one swift move, Dudley stepped forward and punched Piers in the face.

"OH SHIT!" Dennis screamed, waving his arms.

"If you talk to me like that again, I'll hit you _full-force_," Dudley threatened loudly, shaking his fist in the air. He wasn't sure what full-force would be, but it sounded cool. Piers was lying in the gravel, as possible.

Totally vexed, Dudley cracked his knuckles and receded to the bench at the far corner of the park, where he sat nonchalantly. _'Stupid idiot, thinking he can be in my business.' _He sent his gang angry stares and gripped the wooden seat, rubbing his palms against the knife-cuts in the wood—Donny Loves Kara, 1992!, We Were Here.

"Hey. Guess who," said Sarah from behind him, her hands on his shoulders. He could see her pink manicured nails.

"Cut it out," he said throatily, hiding a smile. "What's up?"

She perched on the table, facing him, her legs spread apart, wearing another tiny skirt. She kicked her heels off and shook her straight dark hair. "Not much." She smiled and popped her gum. "Why'd you just hit Polkiss?"

"Uh. No reason," Dudley voiced shortly. He didn't want to tell her it was about _her_.

"Cool," she smirked. "He went down fast."

Dudley straightened up. "Yeah, well, you know. I've been practicing a lot."

"Can I feel your muscles?" she inquired sweetly.

"What? Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure." Reddening slightly, he held out his arm and flexed.

Sarah squeezed his arm with her small, thin fingers. "That's solid."

"Yeah, well, I was practicing most every day."

Sarah smiled almost coyly. "You're really strong." She was still rubbing his arm, and leaning down slightly.

"Of course I've beaten up bigger blokes than Piers." Dudley wasn't sure what he was saying anymore—her cleavage and part of her bra were showing. "Rival schools and stuff."

"I bet." Sarah noticed where his gaze was and she slowly lowered her head, her black bangs just hitting the top of her eyes. She pursed her lips slightly.

Dudley suddenly realised where this was going. She ducked down far enough so that their faces were at an equal place, and he kissed her firmly on the mouth. Sarah scooted more in front of him, so that her skirt was level with his chest, and opened her mouth, kissing him again. She smelled like sweet flowers. Minutes later, she was sitting in his lap with her legs curved around his back, kneading his tongue with her own. He stuck his hand up inside her tank top and felt around her bra. She raised up her head and moaned.

However, seconds later, she happened to glance at his watch and looked alarmed. "Shit—I told Mum I was going to babysit for her friend tonight! I _forgot_. I'm sorry—I have to go!"

"You serious? Fine."

She stepped delicately out of his clutches and beamed. Her hair was slightly messed up. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I probably don't have anything else to do," he said casually.

"Cool," she said. She pulled her skirt down over her panties and slipped into her high heels. "Just one thing, though?"

"Yeah?"

Sarah looked like she were expecting something.

"What?"

"Are you gonna ask me to be your girlfriend, then?" she asked, a little tersely .

Dudley hadn't really thought of _that. _"Oh yeah," he declared," I was getting to it."

"So I am, then?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Cool!" she said again. "Right, I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Later." He watched her in keen curiosity this time. _'Different than Melanie. Way better.' _He stood up slowly, and Dennis regarded him with a grin.

"Big D got _game," _he said. "Now _that's _a first date."

"Totally, right?"

"She's pretty fly, D, and I mean that with all respect."

"I get it, you're not some little twat like Piers."

"Naw, he learned."

Dudley nodded. "I guess I'd better head off home," he said abruptly.

"Damn right, I _bet _you should."

--

THE NEXT FEW DAYS were a blur, mostly consistently of beating up kids by day and vandalizing the park at night, with sessions of snogging with Sarah in between. It was the most serious relationship Dudley had been in by far, after all, it was nearing Day Eight and she'd let him feel her up three times. By this time, Piers had accepted the situation and had stepped up once more as Dudley's number one. It never took long for a dispute in Dudley's gang to blow over.

Day Eight was a Wednesday, and Dudley broke out the pot from his bottom drawer and brought it with him to the park. He and Sarah smoked out behind the bathrooms, her head against his shoulder.

"Hey, are guys going out?" said a high voice.

"Not you," Dudley exclaimed, looking up to see Mark Evans _and _Cam Ryan. The most annoying kids always seemed to be friends.

"Hey Cam," greeted Sarah idly. Dudley thought she was a lot less fun stoned—she was calmer and she hadn't flashed him once like she had after drinking.

"You got any more of that?" the boy asked eagerly.

"Why? Like I'd give any to _you," _Dudley said slowly. "Go buy some from Damien."

"Naw, he says he won't sell to me. Says I'm too young."

"Tough."

"Come _on, _Dudley, I've got seventy quid!"

Stoned or not, Dudley knew that _that _was good money. "Quit taking the mickey," he said," why would you have that much with you?"

"I'm supposed to catch the bus downtown to go school shoppin'," the boy explained," but I can tell Mum I lost it."

"Show me," Dudley voiced deeply, and Cam shoved his hand into his pocket, recovering several new pounds. Dudley watched greedily. "Okay, well, I'll trade you." He pulled the baggie out of his pocket and held it out. "Give me the money first."

Cam pressed it into Dudley's huge hands and grabbed the marijuana. "Great, thanks, Big D."

"Whatever, just—" he lowered his voice—" don't tell your sister."

"Sure thing!" The eleven year old wandered off, clutching the drugs like he was some big-shot.

Sarah laughed stupidly into Dudley's shirt. "That was hardly any. Bad trade."

"Bad for _him_, you mean."

"HAS ANYONE SEEN MY DAUGHTER?" barked an adult's voice.

"Shit, are you _kidding me?" _Sarah chortled.

"Fuck no, that's not—"

"That sounds like _Mum!"_

Dudley stood up immediately, putting out the blunt on the cement. Sarah tried to get up and tripped—Dudley grabbed her middle with his arm and pulled her up. She couldn't stop laughing. "Shut _up," _he commanded.

The woman who was apparently Sarah's mother rounded the corner and stared hatefully at them. She wasn't as neat as Mrs. Dursley, but she was put-together and wearing a pastel pantsuit. "Sarah Marie Cleevans, I've been looking everywhere for you! I told you _not _to come back here!"

Sarah smiled calmly at her mom. "Hi. Sorry, but these are my friends."

"_Friends?" _spat her mother, and eyed Dudley distrustfully—she had to look up quite a few inches at him. "And who are you?"

Dudley was trying to act normal, though his mind was half-dead. "I'm—"

"He's Big D," Sarah explained leisurely.

"He's _what? _Sarah, I want you to come with me this instant!" snapped the woman and pulled her daughter sharply by the hand. "You smell like—like _I don't know what, what have you been up to?"_

"Nothing, Mum, stop yelling!"

"What was she doing?" snarled the woman to Dudley through gritted teeth.

He smirked. "Nothing, just sitting here."

"My God, girl, pull up your _skirt!" _Sarah's mom shouted, and yanked it down over her daughter's black underpants in one tug. "Come _along!" _The woman started pulling Sarah across the play yard, and Sarah turned around and mouthed that she'd be back.

Dudley grinned and crossed his arms across his chest, but felt a terrible sense of shame. However, it only lasted a moment, because he had to held Malcom pull apart the kiddie swings.

--

She _did _come back, around nine P.M., to find Dudley and the crew tagging the slides. Dennis was writing _THIS TOWN'S DEAD _in big red letters with a can of spray paint.

"Hey Big D," Sarah said, beaming. In what seemed to be a response to her mother's protest, she was wearing an even _tighter _skirt that hugged at her thighs like it wanted to suffocate her.

"How the Hell did _you _get out?" Dudley asked, holding out an arm which she slid under, pulling her hand around his back.

"Easy. Snuck out the winow."

"Ha, you crazy bitch."

Sarah snorted. "Mum's the crazy bitch. I was given a lecture on how I'm ruining my life. She just doesn't get how much fun I'm having. I tried to tell her I know exactly what I'm doing but she wouldn't listen." She pressed her head into Dudley's chest and smelled hard. "I like this cologne," she said abruptly.

"What else did she say?"

Sarah looked up at him strangely. "Oh, you know, Mum stuff. _I'm worried about you, _blah blah blah. She asked about you, too."

"Oh yeah?"

"Don't sound so excited, haha, yeah, she said you looked like a big lug, said you looked some sort of gang banger." She snorted again. "So I told her nothing's happened between us and that we just hang out. Don't think she bought it."

Dudley put his hand down the back of her shirt and started caressing her back. "Your mum really worries," he said.

"Just typical stuff, though. Probably like yours, right?"

"No," he said shortly with a shrug. "My parents don't suspect anything. They think I'm out at tea."

Sarah threw back her head and laughed delightedly. "That is _awesome! _Your parents rock. I wish mine were like that!"

"Yeah. I guess so," he said.

"Anyway…" Sarah reached into her handbag and pawed around, stepping away from him. She threw a look at Dudley's friends, as though they might be watching.

"What're you looking for?"

Sarah's voice became sort of quiet. "I… I just thought, since we've been going together for awhile… Well, I was out and I took one of these just because…" she trailed off and pushed something at Dudley.

He looked at the object, confused, and then his heart began to pound just a little bit. She'd handed him a wrapped latex condom.

"If you don't want to… it's okay, I just thought—"

"Are you kidding? Yeah, of course I do," he said. He paused for a second. "I've done it _before," _he boasted, as though this would be no big deal.

"I heard," Sarah said," so you…?"

"Yeah, sure, just…" He looked over at his mates, as though they might persuade him otherwise. They were spraying paint over the see-saw and were paying him no mind. "Okay."

Not really having a clear perception of where they were going or how this would turn out, Dudley started walking toward the gazebo at the far end of the park. Sarah followed him, the darkening sky above them like a looming audience.

Having reached the old wooden building, Sarah fell to Dudley's side and they stared awkwardly at each other.

"What do you—" Dudley began, and then stopped talking and pulled his oversized t-shirt over his head, revealing a baggy cut-off top, and lay it on the floor. He took Sarah by the shoulder and began kissing her against the mouth, and she stood on her tiptoes and slipped her hand into his jeans, just in front of his boxers. She deepened the kiss and Dudley shifted. She pulled her hand out with a victorious smile.

"Right, so—" he fumbled with his buttons and undid his pants. They fell and sagged at his feet. "I've practiced doing this at school—" he explained, fidgeting with the condom, turning around for some reason and putting it on with a slight thrill.

She lay down on his t-shirt and hiked up her skirt, pulling her panties down her legs. She smiled. "The ground's hurting my ass."

He gave a short laugh and kneeled down between her thighs—she raised up and kissed him again and he began to thrust into her hard.

He kept telling himself this was much better than last time—on top was much less difficult than against a wall, and besides, it was what everyone said, Sarah was _hot, _and now she was just as much of his territory as Privet Park, and his gang, and his video games, television set and dirty magazines. She was his territory.

After a steady go, she tilted back her head and gave a sharp moan.

He grinned, pulling himself off the pavement, putting a hand to her cheek. "You were a virgin," he said triumphantly.

"Not anymore." She smiled, straightening her skirt and looking for her pants.

As soon as he'd gotten himself together, he rolled up his shirt and stuck it under his arm.

Sarah stood up and flipped her hair out of her eyes. She looked young.

"I don't love you," Dudley said. "Just so we get _that _all straightened out."

"Oh yeah, don't worry about that. I know," she replied, and with this exchange of words, they headed out into the park, finding each other's hands in the dark, feeling blissfully like everyone knew.

As soon as Dudley got home, he busied himself with his laundry, and felt uncomfortable in the morning when Petunia complimented him on how mature that was.

* * *


	4. When You Know You're Going To Fall

**

* * *

**

Chapter Four: You Know You're Going to Fall

* * *

"Way to _go, _Big D!" congratulated Dennis the next afternoon.

"Yeah, good going," grinned Piers.

"What?" Dudley asked slowly, walking toward them. He finally stopped, having reached the middle of the playground.

"What do you mean _what?" _Dennis declared. He threw back his head and gave a high-pitched mock-climaxing scream: "_Oh! Oh! Ohhh!"_

Dudley grinned," Shut up, how'd you know?" He shoved Dennis playfully.

The boy held out his arms to keep his balance. "How did we _know? _We heard from way over _there, _dude. Way to go!" he said again. "So, tell us, was she good?"

"She was all right," Dudley said unperturbedly, giving a lax shrug.

"Aw, no _details?_" Dennis chided, and Piers laughed loudly. "Come on, like, does she shav—"

"You little twat," Dudley declared, but he was smiling. "Yeah, she was good, so what?" He felt the need to change the subject and did: "So, what's going on?"

"Well, Gordan got in big trouble. His dad found his fags—"

"You serious?" Dudley asked, his eyes widening a little bit. It was always a jolt of reality when any of his friends got busted. He kept telling himself it would happen to him any day now.

"Yeah, totally, and so he's on what his Dad called an emergency holiday," Dennis shrugged.

Dudley made a face. "A what!"

"I know, right? He's such a wanker. Ever since Gordan's mom died he's just been sort of a prick."

"Yeah, kinda clingy," Piers put in.

"Probably trying to act like Gordan's _mum_," Dudley said spitefully, and spat on the ground.

"Heh, yeah, the berk," Piers said. "Even my mum ain't as tight-assed as his dad. Bet Mum wouldn't care if she knew."

"Like she'd ever find out, mate, she's never home," Dennis shrugged," what's she got, like some lover in London or something?" He hummed a little tune and pretended to cradle an imaginary person.

Dudley laughed but Piers fell silent. "She's on business," the small boy said, "and busy, that's all."

"Heh, yeah, too busy to care," Dennis went on. "Kind of like Scott." Scott was Dennis' elder brother, whom none of the gang saw very often. He was also tall and broad, but solemn, and often chastised Dennis for what he did wrong. Scott was Dennis' primary guardian, since their dad had left. "See, Big D, you _are _cool, with your dad and mum all perfect—"

"_Don't_ talk about my _mum _being _perfect_," Dudley said immediately.

Dennis waved his hand around. "Naw, I don't mean like that, Dud. I just mean she and your dad actually care loads about you."

Dudley nodded, but didn't want to say anything. If he told some lie about his dad and mom mistreating him, then his gang would pity him and he'd risk falling out of favor. But being seen as the Perfect One made it particularly hard to seem thuggish in situations like this. After all, Dudley _loved _his parents. He just didn't particularly _like _them. And he certainly didn't understand them in the least. Part of him wished it was still nursery school, back when Piers' Mum had been married, and all their lives had seemed pretty picturesque, as lovely as their little Privet houses, chimneys smoking in the snow.

--

The good part of Saturday was spent on boxing practice. Dad had suggested Dudley brush up on his skills, and was surprised when Dudley agreed to this plan, but left the house without his boxing gloves. Dudley didn't need the gloves to practice his hook on the neighbor children. It was pretty reminiscent of the good old days when Piers held down Harris Holke so Dudley could punch him repeatedly in the face. Harris was pretty strong-built for nine, so he took the beating well.

"That's impressive," Sarah stated, appearing to the left of the swing set as soon as Harris had run home crying with great bruises starting on his cheeks.

"Oooh, it's _Sarah," _said Dennis as soon as he saw her. The guys sniggered.

"Oh, hey," Dudley said, and cracked his knuckles in a show-offy fashion, his chest throbbing when he saw her. He tried to figure out something to say. When he looked at her, all he could really think about was the other night, and that nearly gave him a hard-on in itself. "Didn't see you yesterday," he remarked casually, walking toward her as slowly as he possibly could.

"Yeah, I had to pretend to be interested in doing other stuff," she grinned, " so Mum wouldn't suspect anything."

"Right."

"I keep thinking about…" Sarah trailed off.

"…Yeah."

"I just hope you didn't think I was being pushy or anything!" she said squeakily.

Dudley was a little shocked. _'Pushy?' _"No, you weren't. I… I mean, it was good." _'Like I would've turned down sex.'_

She smiled, pulling on her skirt. "Okay. I don't want you to think I'm easy or anything, I just really like you. And it was good, it made it _official._"

"Okay," he shrugged, not sure of what to say next. He was wondering if she'd let him do it again, even though it _was _broad daylight.

Sarah shrugged back. "Well, it's terrible, but I've got to go. I told my friend I'd meet her."

'_No such luck.'_

She came forward and wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders. "I'm really glad we had this talk."

He wanted to ask what talk she meant, but he had a feeling that might not resonate with her. Instead, he kissed her and she kissed him back, moving her hand downward again. Too quickly, she pulled it away.

"When can I see you?" he asked loudly, reddening, but still wishing she would have finished him off.

"Damien said something about a party next Tuesday night. You want to go with me?"

"_Damien." _Dudley frowned. "Wasn't he the one whose cock you sucked? I'm not going to put up with him trying to get with you, and if he as much as looks at you--"he raised his fist threateningly.

Sarah smiled and giggled. "Don't worry, he said he wouldn't mess with you, said it was in the past, anyway, which it was. It didn't _mean_ anything. _I just needed some cigarettes_. Anyway, he's with Veronica now, so he says it's even."

"Hardly," scoffed Dudley, but grinned mischievously. "Guess she told you, then."

"Yeah, I thought it was sexy myself. She can be such a little cow, she should have believed you, serves her right."

Dudley was silent a minute, and then: "Yeah, I'll go with you." He looked around, and then looked back at her. "Long as you promise we can… do it again, okay?" he put in insistently, eying her.

"Sure," she agreed, her wide brown eyes rimmed in blue eyeshadow. "Right then, bye," she said saucily, and moved her little high heels across the play yard.

Dudley ignored his mates, who were making sly comments behind him. "I guess I'll go home, too," he said, amid cheeky guesses as to why he was leaving so quickly.

He turned off Magnolia Crescent, past the alley between the cabana and the restrooms, and headed toward Privet Drive, humming a little to himself as he went. As soon as he reached the house, he stopped short. The summer had officially begun, and he felt the drag of it at once.

"_You," _he said, in a very dangerous voice.

The slim teenage boy in Dudley's front yard with the messy black hair and over-sized shirt turned around suddenly, his shoulders clenched.

_Harry Potter_ smiled triumphantly at Dudley, glaring through those mean emerald eyes. And so very unlike Dudley's way of speaking, his voice was dry and cool:

"Yes_. Me._ What, did you get stupider since I last saw you? Are you incapable of speaking full sentences now?"

Dudley looked at his cousin in wonder. As always, he couldn't think of anything to say very quickly because quite honestly, Harry befuddled him. He talked a lot and quickly, too, and sometimes Dudley was still caught up in the nasty looks Harry gave him without really knowing what the boy had just said. "Huh?" was all he could muster.

Harry rolled his eyes but looked proud. "Seems so. Guess that ton-tongue toffee didn't make your brain expand did it?"

Dudley was still widely unsure of what Harry was even talking about. He strode forward, making sure he tightened his arms over his chest in a threatening manner, and glared down at the dark-haired boy, ignoring the comment. "You have fun at your little school?" he asked condescendingly.

Harry snorted. "What do_ you_ care? You can't understand simple thoughts or ideas, so why don't you just shove off? I don't really feel like being investigated by you, _Dudley_."

In Dudley's opinion, Harry was sounding even crazier than usual, almost bitterer, if that was at all possible. The look in Harry's face suggested he might blow up in rage, which amused Dudley more than anything, though he didn't want a pig tail ever again. "Whatever, Potter," was his retort.

Harry stared at Dudley for what seemed like a very long time, and finally Dudley held up his hands in question. "What the hell are you _looking _at?"

"Hell is not a nice word," Harry put in, and then snickered. "I just thought you were supposed to be on some sort of diet, Diddydums."

"Don't _call _me, that," hissed Dudley," and yes, for your information, I was on a diet _all _year." He wondered where Harry was going with this topic.

"Well, you're five times as large now, congratulations. You know, to lose weight on a diet, you need to eat the recommended foods, not make up your own agenda."

Dudley gave his cousin a very grim smile. "I _did _lose weight, you wanker. It's just, I lifted weights every single day and made it into the boxing team at my school. Then I moved to the top of my weight class. And _then—" _his voice was getting louder and louder as he went on—" I won two trophies at the yearly competition and _now_ I've been named the heavyweight champion of the Southeast."

His cousin was silent for a moment. Dudley could see that Harry was eying his newly formed biceps. "Well," Harry said sardonically, but paused, trying to think of something to say," I'm sure Aunt Petunia appreciates your nice, harmless sport. Just the perfect little angel, aren't you?"

"Yeah, actually she's proud."

"Sure," scoffed Harry, but he sounded resentful instead of sarcastic. "I'm _sure _she _is." _He walked past Dudley and headed toward the road.

"She is," Dudley affirmed, and ambled off after him at a leisurely pace. He hated Harry, yes, but there was something very addictive about their chemistry that Dudley couldn't find anywhere else. "Dad just bring you home?"

Harry threw him a look that said _Why are you still here, _but then he turned back and kept walking. "Yeah," the black-haired boy said darkly," complained all the way here about everything possible known to man, but at least now I'm all caught up on the neighborhood gossip, right? Hosepipe ban, bad service at some restaurant, raving liberals…" Harry trailed off. "You just have the _hardest _lives, don't you?"

Dudley grumbled in response. _'What is his fucking problem? Like he DOES anything besides wave a ruddy stick around!'_

Harry looked back over at Dudley again and then broke out laughing. "Are you trying to make some sort of statement?" he asked.

"What in the fuck does that mean?"

"Oh my goodness, Dudley," Harry said mockingly," guess I haven't seen you in ages, it's so odd to hear you use naughty words!"

"Fuck you."

"Yeah, well, fuck you, too," said Harry pleasantly, unaffected. "What I was talking about was your clothes. What are you trying to be, anyway? Some sort of gangster?"

Dudley made a face between a smirk and a frown, tugging at his oversized light blue shirt, the chain around his neck shifting. "Don't hate on me," he said.

"Are you _serious?_ What do you do, sit on rival gangs and squash them?"

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" Dudley snapped.

Harry seemed to think that was amusing. "You are the _worst _thug ever. Like you'd ever get in trouble, Dudley, honestly, you're not rough at all. You're a privileged, spoiled brat--"

"**SAY THAT **_**again!"**_Dudley roared.

Harry broke up laughing again, but then looked annoyed. "Right, well, you've worn out your welcome. Your stupidity is only funny for so long. Get away from me now, or I'll _do something."_

"You wouldn't," Dudley said firmly, but he tensed up immediately.

"Don't test me, Dudley. Your boxing trophies don't mean anything to _me_!"

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't still be saying that if you were getting clobbered by **me**!"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Do it, Dudley," he said deeply. "Hit me, I dare you."

Despite himself, Dudley felt a twinge of fear. He definitely _wanted _to beat Harry up like in the past, but his cousin had once blown up Aunt Marge, and Dudley didn't really want to be the victim of black magic.

"You're too scrawny," Dudley said in a gruff voice. "It would be too easy."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that."

"I _will."_

Harry sniggered. "Bye, Dudley."

Dudley cracked his fist and watched Harry disappear down the street.

--

"That was when Dudders completely clobbered the poor nancy—left him high and dry, our son did!" Vernon exclaimed merrily, waving his fork around.

It was dinnertime, and for the past ten minutes, he had been giving Harry a play-by-play account of Dudley's winning tournament. However, Harry looked to be in danger of falling asleep in his mushy peas; he kept pinching himself. Though Dudley was glad Vernon was boasting about him, it was a bit annoying, especially since he knew Harry was going to make fun of him later.

Then, all of a sudden, the phone rang. Vernon lowered his fork. "Now, who in the blazes could that be? Calling round at dinner, must be one of YOUR lot, boy," he barked to Harry.

Everyone looked to each other, in a staring match to see who would get up to answer the phone first.

Finally, Petunia wiped her mouth daintily and got up, strolling to the counter and lifting the receiver. "Hello?"

The three males at the table paused in eating, for there seemed to be a _very _angry woman's voice at the other end of the line.

"Yes," Petunia said," Yes, this is the Dursley residence. Yes, I'm his mother—"she made a strange face.

Harry turned to Dudley. "What did you do?" he mouthed.

Petunia looked vexed. "Could you _please _lower your voice? Now, _who are you? _Missus Holke? What do you _want? __What _about Dudley? _Please lower your voice!"_

'_Harris Holke's mum?' _thought Dudley wildly, remembering the nine-year old he'd beaten up at Privet Park that day.

"No," Petunia said," my son wouldn't _dream _of doing that!"

"What is it, Petunia?" barked Vernon.

Harry was laughing in a very derisive way.

Dudley kept silent, for the moment.

His mother was slowly going into a rage. Her voice heightened to a yowl: "NOW LISTEN HERE! DUDDERS WOULDN'T HARM A FLY, AND YOU SHOULD ASK YOUR SON WHY HE'S SOILING MY SON'S GOOD NAME! " She paused. "SO WHAT IF HE'S BRUISED? BOYS ARE BOYS, HE PROBABLY—yes, I _understand _you, I _understand _he says Dudders did it, but let me tell you something, children _lie. _Even the sweetest, most unassuming children lie, and it's all a reflection of the parents, you should—"

The woman on the other end was shrieking now. Harry was trying to hide his amusement, because Vernon was looking purple.

Then, Petunia lowered the phone from her ear. She looked distraught. "I'LL PROVE IT," she hissed to the invisible woman, and turned on Dudley. "Sweetums, it's quite _ridiculous, _but there's a _person _on the telephone who is attempting to say that you might have beaten her son up today. Could you please tell me, honey, what happened?"

Harry and Vernon looked interested, but Petunia looked glassy-eyed.

'_I could say so right now and then they'd know,' _thought Dudley darkly,_' wonder what she'd say.'_

But instead, he raised his great shoulders and used the face that he knew made his mother's heart melt, blue eyes expressive, lips pouty: "Mum, I don't know _what _she's talking about. I wouldn't do that," he explained loudly. "If anyone's saying that, they must be lying!"

"Ha!" Petunia exclaimed. "Did you hear that, what—DON'T YOU INSINUATE THAT MY SON IS A LIAR! HOW DARE YOU—"

"I'M **NOT **A LIAR!" Dudley shouted, suddenly in the moment, pissed off because his mother and father wouldn't listen to Missus Holke, because they couldn't see that he was clearly lying, because Harry was here, because because _because_. "I'M NOT A LIAR, MUM, I'M NOT!"

"See what you've done? KEEP A CLOSER EYE ON YOUR SON, GOODBYE!" Petunia snapped, and slammed the receiver onto its rest, hurrying over to Dudley and hugging him about the shoulders. "My baby boy, my poor boy, I'm so _sorry—"_

"Crazy woman," Vernon shrugged. "Must be one of those poxy feminists."

"Can I pleased be excused?" Harry snapped impatiently. "I think I might be sick."

Dudley looked up and they made eye contact, and Dudley knew, as always, that Harry could see right through him.

--

"He's back all _ready?" _questioned Malcom in a tone of concern.

Dudley nodded. They were hanging out at the corner of Magnolia Crescent and Yew Row, smoking cigarettes and passing around a pint of whiskey that Dennis had stolen. "Yeah, the freak's back, and worse than ever. Seems to think he has a hard life."

"Who?" asked Sarah, but they ignored her.

"A _hard _life?" Malcom snapped. "What's so _hard _about it?"

"Who knows?" Dudley snarled," but he seems to think he's harder than me."

"Who?" Sarah said again, tugging on Dudley's shirt.

Dennis broke out laughing. "He really _hasn't _seen us in awhile, has he? We should give him a hello."

This made Dudley pause. "Naw, not worth it," he said coolly. He didn't want Harry taking out that wand.

"_Who?" _demanded Sarah shrilly and Dudley wrenched away from her, shoving her hand away.

"_God_," he snapped," MY COUSIN! He's just my _cousin_!"

Sarah stared at him wide-eyed. "I—I was only _asking, _I just wanted to _know—"_

"Yeah, well you don't need to be so fucking mardy! He's my cousin, the freak, and he's back. There. You know."

The guys sniggered.

"I only wanted to _know what you were speaking about," _she said softly, biting her lip. "Why are you being such a _bastard_?"

Dudley frowned; his mates were watching in interest. He couldn't apologise—that was right out. "Why are _you _being such a _wench?" _he replied tersely.

Sarah looked from Dudley to Malcom to Piers to Dennis, and then drew in a shuddering breath. She whipped around and clacked away. "I'm going _home," _she declared stuffily, over her shoulder.

"Fine," Dudley replied hoarsely, rolling his eyes at his mates and grabbing the whiskey bottle, taking a drink. "Honestly, what's her problem?"

"What if you've gone and upset her badly, Dud?" wondered Malcom.

Dudley leered. Malcom knew nothing of girls, after all. "She'll be back," he said.

Dennis nodded. "They always come back."

Malcom looked desperate. "Look," he began," even _Piers _has snogged!" He shoved Piers a little and the boy nearly toppled over. "You assholes need to get me a bird, I swear to God, if I go into the fifth year as a virgin I will die."

"You bloody mental case," Dudley grinned but Piers nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, well, easy for you to say," he declared. "You two have _bonked."_

"Come on now. What's it like?" asked Malcom.

Dennis and Dudley made eye contact. "Well, it's different with every girl, then isn't it? How're we supposed to say what it's like?" Dennis asked.

Dudley nodded, not really knowing what to say.

"Right then, well who have you boffed, then?" Malcom prodded in interest.

"Come on, you know about it," Dennis said, taking a swig from the whiskey and making a pained expression. _"Fuck, Big D how do you down this stuff?"_

"I'm superior, mate, that's all," sniggered Dudley, lighting up another fag and exhaling deeply.

"Come on, out with it!" Malcom begged desperately.

Dennis raised his eyebrow. "All right, if you really want to know… 'kay, that girl I brought to your party, Piers, with the huge tits?"

"Emily?" Malcom asked.

"I dunno," Dennis shrugged. "Well, I done her after your party."

"No way," Piers exclaimed. "She good?"

"Think so. I was smashed, though."

"Okay, who else?"

"Well, of course Susan," Dennis said with a shrug. "Twice. One in fourth year, then a few nights ago. She's kinda romantic, though. It's a bit sickening."

"Aren't they friends, or something?" Malcom asked.

"Oh yeah," Dennis shrugged again. "And Melanie, too, but she'll shag anyone—" he made eye contact with Piers—" oh right, never mind."

"Okay, what about you, Big D?" Malcom asked.

"Shut _up," _Dudley declared, sucking in nicotine. He hadn't shagged as many girls as Dennis and he didn't want to say it aloud. After all _he _was the leader.

"No, come on, _I_ had to," Dennis said.

"_Fine." _Dudley sighed, and exhaled again, coughing. "Of course Mary-Anne."

"_Oh _yeah," Malcom nodded, seemingly remembering her. "What's she like naked?"

Dudley reddened. "Don't really know, guess I wasn't paying attention. Anyway, she wasn't all the way naked."

"Right. Well, what about Sarah?" Piers questioned.

"All ready told you about that."

"Naw," Malcom exclaimed," you didn't say it to me! You shagged _Sarah? _All ready?"

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You only just met her. I mean, I commend you 'n all," Malcom paused, eying Dudley fearfully. "It's just…"

"Just what, dude?" Dennis said loudly. "She's hot."

"She a freak, like Gordan heard?"

Dudley grinned. "Dunno."

"Guess you'll figure out when she ain't mad at you," laughed Malcom. "Wow, so what's it like?"

"Oh God, if you don't shut up, I'll tackle you!" Dudley declared, and they all burst out into guffaws. Dudley puffed on the last of his cigarette and put it out. "Fuck, hand me that whiskey," he commanded, and took a serious swig. "I want to get fucking wasted," he said loudly.

He noticed all of a sudden that they were being watched. Harry was standing in Dudley's view only, staring at him with a look of shock upon his face. Though Dudley's heart beat a little faster (_would Harry dare tell Mum?), _he gave the dark-haired boy a cool look-over and took another drink, expectorating onto the sidewalk.

--

"Surprise, surprise," said Harry blandly from the kitchen, when Dudley stumbled home around ten.

"Go to bed," was Dudley's grunted response. He pulled off his cap and ruffled his bangs. "I don't need to talk to you."

"Agreed. _But, _you _aren't _all talk, Duddydums, I'm very interested. Since when have you become a thuggy chav? I mean, not that it comes as too much of a surprise, you've always been a great bully, but _smoking _and _drinking? Tsk! _Thought you were mummy and daddy's little treasure."

"Yeah, maybe you're not so smart," Dudley managed to get out, walking past where Harry stood against the kitchen counter.

"Oh, that might be stretching it." Harry rolled his eyes. "I shudder to think what Aunt Petunia would think if she came downstairs _right now."_

"I dare you," Dudley said.

Harry seemed to accept that this was not too huge of a threat to the blond. "Fine. It can be our secret, Duds, now you should get your _perfect _self up to beddy-bye so you can see just how _much _of a double life you lead."

Dudley gave him a strange look, but continued for the staircase.

"And Dudley," Harry said seriously, pausing. "You _really _have nothing to drink about, so don't go on thinking you're some sort of abused case. I know who you are."

"Not really," said Dudley firmly, so firmly that he was sure Harry drew backward a bit. "And if you say that again I'll _really_ be angry."

"O-kay, then." Harry chuckled. "Goodnight, Dudders."

Dudley glared at Harry and made a rude gesture at him, and creaked up the staircase. When he entered his bedroom and switched on the light, he noticed that there was a parcel on his bed. It was neatly gift-wrapped from the mall. Confusedly, he unwrapped it, tearing the bright yellow paper to reveal a plain box. When he lifted the top of the package, he saw that it contained three new garments: a hooded sweatshirt he had been admiring, a new overshirt, and a beige pair of trousers, all from the new store he'd been obsessed with lately. Amidst the clothes, there was a note:

'_Dear Dudley,_

_I'm so sorry that Mrs. Holke and her son upset you so much. What she said upset me, too. That anyone could say such awful things about you made me very sad. I know who you are, and you'd never do that. Of course I believe you, and of course I love you. Your father and I are so proud. Don't let those lies affect you. YOU ARE WONDERFUL!_

_WE LOVE YOU!_

_XOXO_

_-Mum (and Dad!)'_

Dudley dropped the note out of his large hand and contemplated smashing something, but instead he attempted to go to sleep without giving any of it much thought. It took a lot of effort, and he didn't fall to sleep until it was nearly four in the morning. He hated how bad it felt, but he couldn't express what the feeling was, or why it wouldn't go away.

* * *


	5. Logic and Proportion

* * *

**Chapter Five: Logic and Proportion

* * *

**

On Tuesday morning, Dudley woke up in a awful mood. On top of that weird feeling he'd had on Sunday after opening the gifts, he'd had no Sarah-spottings on Monday, which made him furious because she was taking _much _too long in forgiving him for whatever he'd done to make her so distraught. And besides all of that, he couldn't get hardly any sleep because of Harry.

Harry was _the _loudest sleeper Dudley had ever heard in his life. It had always been bad, but this summer was just a terror. At first, Dudley had thought Harry was wanking, the way he was shouting and carrying on. This struck Dudley as pretty funny at first—he himself was pretty quiet about it, either that or he'd look at randy photos when he was certain no one was around, but _Harry was screaming. _Dudley had had half a mind to rap on the wall between their rooms with his Smeltings stick, but he soon realized Harry wasn't enjoying whatever it was he was thinking about. That, and Harry kept mentioning some name. Dudley couldn't hear it clearly, though. He was beginning to think Harry was some sort of sick weirdo who liked it freakish—why else would he be yelling so loudly for?

So all in all, Dudley was over-tired and completely baffled. This summer was the worst so far. It should have been the best—everything was certainly way more _interesting—_but it was all very confusing. He didn't know whether or not he _wanted _Mum and Dad to know about his endeavors, and he had no idea what to do about Harry.

And as far as Sarah was concerned… He wasn't sure what it was even _about. _He liked her, _that _was certain, but he didn't know whether or not he'd care if she went away. However, he hadn't seen her in a day and he was worried. But that brought up _another _matter. He wasn't sure whether he was worried because it would ruin his reputation if she didn't ever want to see him again, or if he was worried because he didn't want their relationship to falter! He wanted at least a few more tries at sex with her at least. The cement gazebo was only a few steps up from the bathroom wall. Besides, if she'd done _that _to Damien and they weren't even dating…? Dudley wanted more than just a lousy go in the park.

He tried his best to ignore Harry, who was all ready seated at the breakfast table. It seemed that Dad was angry because Harry wished to read the newspaper. This in itself was doubly stupid. First of all, why would Dad be _mad _about that? And why would Harry want to _read? _

'_It is SUMMER!' _thought Dudley, and sat down, rubbing his forehead.

"Morning Sweetums!"

"'lo there, son."

"Headache, Dudley? Ha, ha."

Smile, slight smile, glare.

Petunia set a bowl of healthy looking cereal in front of Dudley, and Harry broke out laughing when he cringed. "Sleep well, Dudley?" she asked, throwing Harry a strange look before heading to the sink.

"Not really," Dudley shrugged.

"Like _you_ should talk," Harry replied.

"You need to shut up at night!" Dudley snarled back.

"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?" yelled Harry.

Vernon set down his precious newspaper. "Now, really, boys, that's _enough."_

"Okay," said Harry quickly, as though he might just suddenly go insane," okay! Fine!"

Dudley watched him in a sort of stupor, as one might watch a bewildering television program in a foreign language.

It was no surprise when Harry left the house, slamming the door.

"That pathetic little _thing," _complained Petunia.

--

At eight that night, Dudley was in Damien Pierce's house, surrounded by his gang, all of the neighborhood girls, and some of the stupidest preteens on Privet Drive. Since Damien was a drug dealer, he'd made friends with practically every group in the area, save for the snobby prudes. Pierce's house was pretty big, and unlike Piers, he _knew _how to throw a party. However, Sarah hadn't shown up yet.

Dudley kept checking his digital watch, wishing she'd hurry up, wondering what would go down if she _didn't _show.

"Well, look who it is," smirked Veronica, arm in arm with Damien, but still unable to make full eye-contact with Dudley. He figured she'd be pretty hot if she wasn't such a bitch. She was of Indian descent, with long dark hair and good teeth, but her clothes weren't really slutty enough, in his eyes.

"It's all right, hon, he's cool," Damien coaxed. "What up, D? Heard you're going with Sarah C."

"Yeah," said Dudley shortly, giving the druglord what he knew was a malicious look-over.

"She's a nice kid," Damien shrugged.

"Oh yeah?"

"Hey, Big D, chill. No worries. Let's let bygones be bygones." Damien tried to look pleasant.

Dudley glowered, letting the smaller boy know that the matter was done being discussed. "Whatever," he said. He checked his watch.

"If you two need to do some business, upstairs is the place. Throw the sheets down the hallway laundry hamper, though, you feel me?"

Dudley nodded.

'_Where is she?'_

Time seemed to drag. He watched casually as Dennis got drunker and drunker by the minute.

"You want some of these?" Dennis asked, rather kookily in Dudley's opinion, shoving a handful of small pills in his face.

"Naw," Dudley said, raising his eyebrows with a glower. "What _is _that shit?"

"Dunno. Piers ripped it off his mother. Feels good, though."

"Go away," Dudley spat.

"Whoa whoa, everything is _okay!" _Dennis declared, grinning, and tried to pull down some girl's pants. Dudley gladly took a hit off Piers' blunt and pretended he didn't know anyone.

Around eight thirty, Sarah arrived. She walked into the living room looking very done up. She was wearing a dark mini, a shirt that was hardly more than a bra, and a checkered newsboy cap. She searched the room and Dudley nodded at her.

"Hey," she greeted quietly, coming toward him.

He'd been leaning against the wall, out of the way of the happenings. No one paid them any mind.

"What's up?" he asked darkly.

Sarah leaned beside him. "Sorry I wasn't around yesterday. You just… you sort of hurt my feelings."

"Come _on. _Don't be stupid._"_

"You _did! _I wasn't trying to be annoying!"

Dudley looked down at her. "Well, I guess I shouldn't've made you feel bad, then," he voiced in a tone that suggested slight amusement.

Sarah laughed, albeit ruefully. "Guess not." She looked up at him, pained. "You didn't mean it, did you?"

"Naw," he said with a shrug. "Guess I was messing with you."

"Well, _stop," _she cooed. "I don't like feeling like some daft cow."

"You weren't," he said. "You were just annoying." He put his arm around her shoulder.

"I knew you didn't mean it," she said gently, and went up on tiptoes.

"Hot outside or what?" he commented, gesturing to her top.

"Hot inside, too."

She kissed him firmly, leaning into his chest. He kissed her back, firm and hard on the mouth, pulling on her bottom lip. She rolled her tongue ring over his tongue and pressed herself to him harder.

Dudley pulled away from her and looked longingly at the stairway. "Look, what do you say we go upstairs?"

"All ready?" she asked softly. "I want to kiss you some more, kind of."

"We can kiss more up there," he told her. "I promise."

--

The first bedroom was all ready being used, so Dudley tried the second.

"_Ooh," _Sarah said at once. There was a large bed with black sheets and many pillows, unlike Dudley's house which was made up of pastels and antiques. It looked like a guest room. It was blank, and the modern light bulb shined down from the middle of the ceiling. She skipped to the bed and sat on the end energetically, bouncing on it a little bit. He strode over and sat on the edge. Immediately, she crawled into his lap, swinging her legs behind him. They snogged for a while, and Dudley pulled off her top, exposing her fully bare breasts for the first time and feeling them, then running his tongue over her neck and below. This gave him an idea.

"You want to lie back?" he asked suddenly.

"Here, wait, I've got the rubber," she put in, looking on the floor for her purse.

"Don't need it for _this_," he said.

Her expression slightly uncertain, she did as he requested. He crawled toward her and pulled down her pants and skirt. Suddenly, she knew just what he was doing. She leaned against the headboard and pulled at the sheets in ecstasy.

A few minutes later, he straightened up and put his hand on her bare leg. "Let's do it now," he said. He figured that since he'd done something that focused on _her, _she'd agree more easily.

She was lying back on the pillows, and smiling, a bit breathless. "All right, the condom's in my purse," she said quietly.

"I was thinking, you know, why not try it without?" Dudley suggested. "It'd be much better."

"_What? _Aw, no, I mean, I'm sure it would, but don't you _think it's a bad idea?" _she whispered, her eyes widening a bit.

"No!" Dudley exclaimed. "Of course it's not. They play it off like it is, grown-ups, 'n all, but really, it's not bad, plus it feels much better," he repeated. He relished the thought, actually coming into Sarah this time.

Sarah looked uncertain. "But what if I got… you _know."_

"What? Pregnant? Naw, it doesn't happen like that," Dudley explained. "See, it takes at least five times of trying, but sometimes more."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he nodded. "You know my mum and dad? I found out it took them forever to have me. Mum kept, you know…" Dudley trailed off. He didn't know _why _he was telling Sarah this; he'd never told anyone, and he didn't think even Harry knew.

"She _what_?"

"Well, she kept miscarrying—I think that's what they called it. So it takes a long time to get someone pregnant, I'm sure of that."

"I'm sorry, Dudley," Sarah said softly. "I didn't know—I mean, that's kind of sad."

"It's fine now," he replied throatily. "Anyway… you shouldn't worry. Just try it this once, then you'll see."

"I just—"

"Did what I just do to you feel good?"

"Yes, but…"

"Well, see, this is going to be about the same for me. And see, we both enjoy each, so we're both happy," he said factually.

"Okay…" Sarah looked nearly convinced. "As long as you're sure."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he nodded insistently.

She nodded, and he raised his body over hers, a shadow over her small form, her skinny arms around his neck, his finger in her mouth as he thrust, her biting down softly, closing her eyes. When he climaxed, she looked blissful, her doubts gone. He lay beside her and stared at the ceiling.

He wondered if she really thought he was a good boyfriend, just like Mum and Dad thought he was a good son.

--

The next few weeks of the summer were agreeably predictable: tagging the town centre by night, partying, sex with Sarah in the park gazebo (mostly with a condom, sometimes without when he could whine enough to get his way), and beating up kids.

It seemed that Harry was going madder by the day. He'd taken to shouting curse words at Mum and Dad if he didn't get his way, and he often left the house hot and bothered. Also, Dudley had recently interpreted the name Harry was shouting at night: _Cedric. _This was very amusing; a _boy's _name! Dudley wished he could casually throw _Cedric's _name into a conversation, but he was afraid that Harry might have a fit. Dudley was dying to know just who _Cedric _was. It would be ever so amusing if the all-ready completely wacko Harry was _queer, too._

However, the _Cedric _situation was far more strange than Dudley could have imagined, because along with screaming the name repeatedly, Harry also said things like "CAN'T YOU SEE HE'S DEAD?" and "DAD, HELP!". Dudley really couldn't help but think Harry was the biggest idiot in the entire world.

Mostly, Dudley tried to steer clear of him, though sometimes it seemed like Harry _wanted _to fight. This presented a problem, for Dudley couldn't ever back down. They were a terribly complicated duo. And neither would let the other have the last word.

Three weeks after Damien's party, Dudley walked outside to get the post. (It had been his official job ever since the disturbances so long ago. Harry was no longer trusted with letters, mailboxes, or parcels of any kind. Any time a bird flew past the windows of the house, Vernon blamed it on Harry.) There were two envelopes, one addressed to Dudley and the other to Harry, and both were from school. This meant only one thing: _grades._

"Ooh, look, Harry, you've failed everything," Dudley said merrily, striding into the kitchen, clutching both of the letters with a sneer.

As neither Petunia nor Vernon were present, Harry took the opportunity to smart off. "You stupid bastard! The letter isn't even _open."_

"Well, you still failed," shrugged Dudley.

Harry got up and stood as close to the blond boy as he could muster. He tried to take his mail, but Dudley held his arm up high, way above Harry's reach.

"DUDLEY! GIVE ME MY LETTER!"

"Say please!"

"I SAID GIVE IT!"

"**SAY PLEASE, YOU LITTLE TOERAG!"**

Harry made a face between anguish and amusement, kicked Dudley in the knee, jumped up, grabbed the letter and ran backwards into the refrigerator. "HA! I got it!"

"You are insane!" Dudley declared, looking at his cousin with narrowed eyes.

Harry tore his letter and checked over it quickly. "HA!" he said again. "I didn't fail anything, like always."

"I made you doubt it, though didn't I?" Dudley asked pointedly, crossing his arms.

"Wow, you amaze me sometimes," Harry said coolly. "Go hit your punching bag, it'll make you feel better, Duds."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck _you. _Well, now. Why not open yours?" Harry grinned. "Because you really _did _fail?"

"I wouldn't give a shit if I did, Harry, that's the difference. You care a lot about stupid shit," Dudley said huffily, clenching his letter in a death grip.

"If you don't care, open it."

Dudley smiled broadly. "Oh, _Potter _thinks I'm afraid to open my letter in front of him!"

Harry gave a biting laugh. "If you're not, then why don't you just do it?"

"Because I'm waiting for Mum to get home so she can see it first," Dudley shrugged. He was hoping he failed at least one class, maybe more. Then he could see if she reacted.

"_Because I'm waiting for Mum, oh I'm just a perfect little son," _blathered Harry, making a kissy-face.

Dudley rolled his eyes. "Later, Potter," he said stuffily, walking out.

"What, are you going to go get drunk? Going to drown your woes? You are _pathetic," _Harry snarled.

"Whatever."

"Nice comeback."

"Get stuffed."

"Shut _up."_

"GO TO HELL!"

"Yeah? I'll see you there!"

Dudley couldn't find a comeback to that one.

--

"Hey Mum, what's up?" Dudley asked, as Petunia bustled in through the front door, carrying many shopping bags. He got up to help her with them, and was glad Harry wasn't around, because he didn't want to be chastised for acting 'soft'.

"Sweetie, good, how are you?" Petunia asked in a sigh, as though she were out of breath. "Supermarket just too crowded today, savages, really! Don't know how they can live with themselves! Do you know who I _saw?"_

Dudley made a grunt in response; he hardly cared to know, but it was nice of her to include him anyway.

"The next door _neighbors _and their _daughter!" _Mum said shrilly. "She's back!"

"Oh? Didn't know she'd gone."

"Oh _yes! _And you wouldn't believe, she's gone and gotten herself—" Petunia's icy eyes widened a bit and she stopped talking, as though she had just remembered something.

"Got herself what?" Dudley asked, dropping the bags on the counter.

"I shouldn't be telling you this, really. There's no comparison between you and her, at _all. _She's a right horror, but it serves her mother right, she's done a lot wrong, you know—"

"Mum. Got herself _what?" _

Petunia paused, holding a milk bottle in one hand and a sack of cauliflower in the other. "Well…" She paused dramatically.

Dudley knew his mother well. No matter how reserved she was, when it had to do with gossip, three times was the charm.

"Gone and got herself what?" he repeated.

Mrs. Dursley put the two items in the refrigerator and then shook her head sadly. "Pregnant," she said in a somber voice.

"Oh." He certainly wasn't expecting _that. _Mrs. Next-Door's youngest daughter was twenty three and a dropout. In Petunia's eyes, she was the scum of society, even worse than Mrs. Next-Door's eldest daughter, who had married a farmer.

"Yes, I was quite saddened to see it. After all they've been through."

Dudley couldn't help thinking that his mother knew more about the next door neighbors than him.

Petunia seemed to be tired after the excitement of the store, and she put away the rest of the groceries in silence. He wanted to know what she was thinking about. He wanted to ask how many tries it took to get Mrs. Next Door's daughter knocked up. He was sure it had to be above five. And that was if you really meant it.

"Are these your marks?" she asked suddenly, with a smile, reaching toward the envelope he'd propped against the coffee pot.

"Yes." He leaned against the doorjamb between the kitchen and the dining room, waiting to find out how he'd done.

His mother cleanly tore the envelope open, removed the paper inside and inspected it. Her cheeks turned pink. "_First last summer, now this? _Lies! _Lies! Oh, I'm so sorry!" _All at once, she tapped forward in her flats and hugged Dudley around the shoulders. He stared down at her awakwardly.

"What's the matter, Mum?"

"That school is teaching you nothing! They obviously don't know how to present their information in a way that is easy for gifted children like you to understand."

Dudley grabbed the paper. "Lemme see." He scanned his grades. Some averages (Science, Physical Education, History of Music), one below average (English) and two fails (Historical Britain and Maths).

"They've failed you on purpose!" declared Petunia angrily.

"No, Mum," said Dudley with a shrug. "I guess I just didn't care." He waited for her to shriek. He _wanted _her to be angry.

"Obviously! Why would someone care about school if he wasn't being challenged!" Petunia snarled at the envelope, as though it held the blame for Dudley's poor efforts. "When your father comes home, he's going to sort all of this out, don't you worry, popkin!"

Looking more than a little insane, she walked over to the fridge and put his report card on it with a Grunnings magnet. "You got excellent scores in the most important things, after all!" she said.

"Yeah," said Dudley sulkily. "Whatever, _okay."_ He seriously considered punching a hole in the wall. Instead, he left the house, cursing all the way to Privet Park.

--

"Dudley!" exclaimed Sarah, running toward him, her black hair flying in the wind. She wasn't wearing any shoes, and had on a pleated blue jean skirt that was flying up so her red pants were revealed.

He grinned and stopped in his tracks. "Whoa, what's your deal?" He held out his arms and she collided with him, hugging him desperately, her face pressed into his chest.

"Just happy to see you, I guess," she shrugged, laughing.

"Oh," he said, "cool." She seemed a little more high strung than usual.

"So, what's up?"

"Same old shit. Mum being completely stupid, my cousin wanting to fight with me for no reason, and Dad being all… at work," he shrugged. "You?"

"My mum's being a complete uptight bitch. She says she _suspects _things."

"Oh yeah?" asked Dudley casually. "Like what?"

"Well, she saw some of her money was missing, from when I bought your weed off Damien the other day. But I told her she's just a crazy cow, that she lost it herself. She screamed at me because I fell asleep when I was baby-sitting, but I couldn't help it! I bored out of my fucking mind, and I'd been blazing all morning so I was kind of lazy." She giggled, shaking her hips a little bit.

Dudley was silent.

Sarah looked upward. "Really! _Safe? What's wrong?"_

"Nothing's the wrong," he said instantly. "Why, should it be?"

"Well, no. It's just… you're not saying all that much. Are you mad?"

"**NO!" **he responded loudly. "Look, just drop it."

"Fine," she replied, laughing some more. "Come on, just calm down." She held out her hand and he took it, heading for the crowd of their friends. She seemed like she might fall over at any given second.

"Hey Big D!" greeted Dennis with a wave. Piers and Melanie were sitting together on the slide—over the past weeks they'd reached an understanding, much to the great dismay of Malcom, who was crushed that _Piers _would get attention from a girl before he did. Veronica and Damien were necking on the swings.

"Anyone got an liquor?" Dudley asked at once, staring around.

"No, sorry!" Piers exclaimed.

"Fuck you guys, I hate you."

"What's wrong?" Melanie chirped.

"NOTHING!" Dudley exclaimed. "Do I have to have a reason to get fucked up? Honestly."

Sarah giggled again, and promptly fell into the gravel. She then couldn't stop laughing hysterically.

Dudley stared down at her, concerned. "What the hell?"

Dennis shrugged. "I told you you should try some of these. Look at how much _fun _she's having." He held out a few of the pills he'd had at Damien's party.

Looking from Sarah to Dennis, Dudley frowned deeply. "**Tell me what that shit is!" **he commanded, pointing at the boy in front of him with his huge arm straight out in front of him. "What kind of stuff are you making her take?"

"Dudley—_cool down, _it makes you feel good!" Dennis said defensively. "Nothing bad!"

"Well, why give them to her when I'm not around?" Dudley snarled.

Piers lifted his head off Melanie's shoulder. "Those are my Mother's, Big D. They just make her function, some kind of expensive prescription."

Dudley glowered and with one hand, he hoisted Sarah off the ground.

"Hey!" she giggled.

"SHUT UP!" he shouted.

Damien shook his head. "Man, you are all _worked _up. Before you fucking kill someone, you need to take a hit." He dropped Veronica's hand and hopped off his swing, holding a blunt out to Dudley. "In fact, just take it, man. We don't want to die tonight."

Dudley glared in a fashion that suggested two or three people might die anyway, but took the offered blunt, even though it wasn't as strong of a fix as he would have liked. Pot made him slightly more hungry. And woozy. But it would have to do.

--

Sarah, unlike Dudley, had no opposition to downing wine, as he discovered on this particular night. Along with the effects of whatever pills Piers' mother took, she was turning very silly. Dudley, on the other hand, was deadening with each hit. Their only similarity was that both of them were acting stupider than stupid.

"I want to see your _house!" _Sarah burst out. "I remember how _cute _it was and I _wanna see it again!" _She hopped up and down.

"I guess…" Dudley began slowly. "Everyone's in bed. Maybe."

"Come _on, Dudley!" _she crooned sweetly, grabbing his mammoth hands in her own tiny ones and swinging back and forth. "_I just wanna seeeee."_

He grumbled some sort of nonsensical response.

"You have a couch still?" she asked.

Dudley dropped her hands and stared. "Who doesn't?"

"Well, then, we should sit on it!" she giggled. "And you can touch my boobs!" She started laughing so hard that tears came out of her eyes.

"I'm hungry," Dudley responded slowly, totally missing the part where she said he could touch her chest. If everyone was in bed, then he could eat something other than whole grain cereal. "Then, maybe we can fuck or something." As he said it, he knew it was preposterous, but it was worth a try.

"Or something!" she grinned. "Lemme see where my shoes are!"

--

As soon as Sarah found her heels, they headed toward Privet Drive, arguing the whole way, mostly because Sarah kept falling in the bushes and it was irritating him. When he unlocked the door to the house, she lurched forward and he grabbed her around the neck with one arm to steady her.

"I'm fine!" she said in a loud whisper. "Get off me!"

"Shut up! You're going to _wake them," _Dudley snapped, now trying to hold his hand over her mouth.

She licked his fingers. "_Said get off!"_

Dudley heard a sound from the second floor, and look drowsily up to the stairway. _'Come on, Mum. Come on, Dad. I dare you.'_

Alas, it was Harry.

"Is that the _freak?" _Sarah giggled.

What followed next was a conversation Dudley hardly understood. He proceeded to make himself food, though he wasn't really certain what he was eating. He had a faint thought that Harry could use this situation against him, but he didn't care. Sarah and Harry seemed to be talking, though Dudley couldn't decipher what it was about. It was almost as though they were speaking the same language. The room was cloudy.

Harry was slowly growing louder, and Dudley had to keep reminding everyone to shut up. The whole thing was annoying. He wished Harry would leave so he could persuade Sarah to have sex with him. But Harry wasn't going to leave, it seemed.

After what seemed like an eternity, Vernon shouted from upstairs. Pissed off, Dudley grabbed Sarah again and threw her outside. He knew this might cause some problems the next day, but it was his first reaction. His second reaction was to be pissed at Harry, but Harry seemed to be more than slightly amused.

"How did you _ever _get a girlfriend?" he asked in what seemed like amazement to Dudley, though he didn't know why.

'_Why is he talking to me? He just lost me sex. He is such an idiot. If I…' _Dudley couldn't complete his thought; it was rather hard. "Easy," he said very slowly.

Harry raised an eyebrow as though he was having some trouble believing. "No really, Duds. I want to know."

"Easy!" Dudley exclaimed. "I asked her."

Harry broke up laughing. Dudley knew he was coming down off his high, and probably saying things that didn't altogether make sense, but it didn't stop him from wanting to deck his cousin in the mouth.

"POTTER! ENOUGH!" Dad shouted, his feet creaking on the floor overhead.

Dudley glared at Harry and headed upstairs. _'He met Sarah,' _he kept thinking. _'Life is fucking weird.'_

--

Even though Dudley liked to boast, he would have been more than happy to keep Sarah as a part of his private life, because now Harry referenced her in conversation. The next morning, Petunia announced that in celebration of Dudley's grades, she was going to take him with her for a day at the seaside. All _Dudley _wanted to do that day was get drunk, and so his plans were foiled. Harry made some comment about 'maybe you'll get laid by gulls instead.'

But Dudley had a feeling that Harry was only jealous. At least, he always told himself that.

The sea was rather boring. Petunia asked about his 'nice little friends', and as always, Dudley lied. She told him Dad had complained to Smeltings and his arithmetic teacher had compromised, giving him a Meets Expectations. But then, Petunia did something worse.

She attempted to initiate a conversation about _sex._

They were sitting at an outdoor café eating fish and chips for lunch, and Dudley kept becoming distracted by women wearing bikinis.

"Unpleasant, isn't it?" noted Petunia, totally misinterpreting her son's long sideways glances.

"Er—" Dudley reddened a bit, and considered saying _'no, Mum, actually it's fantastic'_, but he did not. "I… guess so."

She sighed. "I really do _not _know what this world is coming to." She put her hand on top of his and squeezed. "I realised it wasn't very adult of me to tell you the troubles of some pregnant lowlife. I forget sometimes you're just fourteen—"

"Fifteen," he said instantly.

She looked almost teary-eyed. "I _meant _fifteen." She kept her hand on his. "I am _so _lucky to have you as a son, not of that funny business so many boys your age go through."

Dudley stared at her, but said nothing.

"It feels so nice that you have friends who you love, whose homes you go to for teatime, when some parents are lucky if their children even come _home _at night."

"Yeah, exactly," he muttered.

Petunia patted his hand and took hers away. She got a sort of scary twinkle in her eyes. "_So. _Are those nice _girls _still hanging round with my baby boy?"

Dudley was confused now. "_What _nice girls?" Beyond Clarice (who swore she'd never hang with him if he were the last man on earth), Dudley didn't know _nice _girls.

"Why, those friendly girls who used to play with you and Piers! Susan, Colleen… " She smiled wistfully. "They were so cute, but I never hear you talk about _girls. _Your father says the same, so I know you aren't keeping secrets from me just because _I'm _a girl." She laughed.

"No, Mum, I'm not keeping any secrets. I guess…" Dudley looked at the table and shuffled his chips around. "Really just don't…"

"No need to be _shy," _Petunia said, as though he were the sweetest thing in the world. "Any might-be girlfriends?" she cooed.

This was getting _much _too close for comfort.

"Don't think so," he said thickly. "Guess I just like hanging with my mates for now."

Petunia beamed. "Good boy."

--

To Dudley's great dismay, Sarah was as intrigued by Harry as Harry seemed to be about her. The day after the horrendous trip with Petunia, Sarah greeted him with, "Where's Harry?"

Dudley stared at her. "Did you take those stupid pills _again?"_

"No!" Sarah exclaimed. "He was funny. Why don't you like him?"

"He isn't _funny," _said Dudley painstakingly, because Sarah had no way of knowing just how un-funny Harry was. "He's a prick. I used to beat him up all the time."

"That's sad," Sarah said.

_Wrong _reaction. "SAD?" Dudley demanded. "SAD? You only met him for ten seconds! He is a little _nerd! _Since when is me beating people up _sad? _" He pouted. "You usually snog me after I beat kids up."

"_Aww," _Sarah sang, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "I'm not being mean, Dudley. I guess if I saw you kick his ass in real life, it would be cool but thinking about you beating him up when you were little is sort of different. Because you're cousins!"

"Cousins or not, he is _not _funny."

"O-_kay," _she snapped. "Okay. Why'd you kick me out the other night?"

"Well, we might've gotten caught. Plus you and Harry were being stupid."

She laughed shortly. "_Sorry_! I guess it's better that way. Think if we'd done something and your dad had come downstairs."

"I guess so."

"HEY BIG D!" called Piers. Darian Rathrum, a second year from the local high school was there with some of his mates. Malcom and Dennis were waving.

"Hang on. I'm gonna see what's up with the guys," he said passively, and walked toward them.

"Okay. I'll be over here," she said quietly, watching him go.

Ten minutes later, he and Piers were demonstrating to a few kids how hard he could punch, but Piers probably hadn't realised until too late that he was going to be the victim.

"I'm not even using my full strength," Dudley said with a tough nod, as Piers doubled over, coughing.

'_Sarah should be over here, clapping or something,' _Dudley thought, and turned around, searching for her. He squinted his blue eyes and scowled.

She was propped up on the fence that surrounded the park, and sitting beside her was none other than his cousin Harry. What was worse was she was laughing at whatever Harry was saying! This made Dudley extremely angry, because unlike other guys, he couldn't punch Potter anymore. So he had to settle matters with words and not physical violence, and that was difficult.

"Sarah-- _OI," _Dudley yelled across the play yard. "Get _over _here." He watched her closely as she bid Harry farewell. If Harry tried _anything, anything! _Dudley would make sure something happened to him.

Sarah tramped through the gravel, her heels flopping about. She threw her blunt into the dirt and gave Dudley a Look. "Thought you'd forgotten me for your mates," she said, flipping her hair back.

He ignored her. "Why in the fuck were talking to him?" he questioned.

"Because _you _weren't talking to _me," _she responded slyly, wagging her skirt.

"I'm talking to you now," he said adamantly.

Sarah grinned and pressed herself to him, nodding. "I see that," she said. Dudley reached down and grabbed her bottom, looking over her head at Harry.

'_You don't know anything,' _Dudley thought bitterly, glaring at his cousin. _'You might know more than Mum and Dad do, but none of you know a bloody thing.'_

_

* * *

_

**_AN:_ **Uh, **warning. **Safe sex is a good option. This is fiction. What Dudley says is fictional. Yeah. Do not believe in Dudley's words, at least in that case.

Please review!


	6. Off With Her Head

**

* * *

**

Chapter Six: Off With Her Head

* * *

"Oi, Big D, you'd better come quick," Malcom called from the street corner. Dudley had been called there for what the boy had termed 'an emergency briefing.' Really, Malcom could be pretty pathetic sometimes.

Dudley was halfway down the block, and never had any desire to 'come quick', as Malcom had put it. He walked lazily toward the broad boy, and when he'd finally approached him, he crossed his arms. "Okay, what?"

"Big D, Mark Evans is spreading _mad _rumours about you, dude."

"You serious? What's the little twat been sayin'?" Dudley asked, spitting onto the sidewalk.

"No offense, but he's all like, insulting you, like… saying you'd never beat up anyone older than you 'cause you're scared."

Dudley reddened furiously. "_What? __That's _shit. I kicked that sixteen year old's _ass _at my last match!"

"I know, dude. I know. But that little bastard is running his mouth, he's just trying to get popular, you know, but the word's spreading."

"He's a liar," Dudley said firmly. "So where is he?"

"Where else?" Malcom questioned. "He at the park."

"I'll show _him," _Dudley declared. "Come on!"

The two stocky boys headed off toward Magnolia Crescent.

There, Mark Evans was in a circle of preteen kids, just as Malcom promised.

Dudley gave his mate a nod before walking slowly toward the gaggle of ten year old boys.

"He's just a fat bully," Mark was saying loudly," but I'm sure he can't pick on anybody his own size, not like there _is _anyone his own size, but _still—"_

Cam noticed Dudley approaching and tapped his friend on the shoulder.

"_What, _Cam?" barked Mark, and the little group fell silent as Dudley's shadow loomed over them. "Oh." He eyed Dudley coolly, but he began to move back and forth nervously. "Hey Big D."

"What's that you were just saying?" Dudley questioned deeply.

"Whaddaya mean?" the boy asked, in a shrill tone. "Nothing, Big D, I didn't say—"

"Sure you didn't," said Dudley lazily, and struck the skinny little ten year old across the face with his fist.

Mark shouted out; his friends were pointing and laughing.

"ANY OF THE REST OF YOU WANT A GO?" Dudley shouted out.

None of them did. (They were all ready running home.)

"Cool!" said Cam Ryan.

--

"What?" snarled Dudley, the following morning, coming out of the bathroom to find his cousin staring at him with a cocky grin.

"Nothing," Harry shrugged. "I just can't work out how _you _have a girlfriend. Even if she _is _a sort of a chavvy slag."

"_You shut up about her," _Dudley said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, what would you do if I _didn't?" _Harry challenged.

That, Dudley did not know. So he glared menacingly at his cousin instead of answering.

"Why would she pick _you_ anyway? Surely she could find a bloke who weighs_ less_ than a whale--"

"Harry, if you don't shut the _fuck _up—"

"TELL ME WHAT YOU'LL DO ABOUT IT!"

"**I DON'T KNOW BUT—"**

"YOU AFRAID?"

"**NO!"**

Harry and Dudley were inches apart, glowering at each other in a crazy fury. Harry's hands were even shaking.

Dudley took a deep breath and gave Harry a smirk, absolutely ready to shove his newfound talents right in his cousin's face. "Funny, isn't it?"

"What's funny? The fact that you can't beat me up because you're _terrified?" _Harry shot back.

"Nah," Dudley said calmly. "Funny that you're always saying how I'm a pig. And a _whale. _But still _I'm _the one with a girlfriend."

Harry's expression soured considerably.

"And not just any girlfriend," Dudley went on," a _super _hot one, too—"

"She's not _that _hot," Harry said plainly, but it was obvious he was working hard to keep his cool. "If you like sluts, maybe but—"

"If you didn't think she was hot," Dudley continued slowly, enjoying every second," you would quit talking about her. Wouldn't you?"

"I'm _not _talking about her!" Harry said loudly. "Anyway, she probably would've gotten with anyone, don't flatter yourself!"

"She likes _me," _Dudley said heavily. "She fucks _me. _Didn't she mention that?"

Harry seemed to be twitching with rage. "Yeah, she said something about it."

"She say how I was?"

"I wouldn't _let _her, that's disgusting, surprised she'd not _flat _by now—"

"Ha _ha, _Harry. The point is, we have _sex _and she likes it. I'm _good. _And you can't do anything about it," Dudley finished with a large smile. He passed by Harry, feeling supreme. He'd finally won an argument with the last word, pure and simple.

Needless to say, he felt _extremely _brilliant.

--

The dark clouds outside made absolutely no sense to Dudley, because his day was getting better and better by the minute. Mum and Dad had gotten some kind of tickets (he hadn't really been listening), and they would be in the city until late that night, which gave him free range of the house. On top of _that, _Harry had been locked up in his bedroom! It was _wonderful._

Dudley got on the computer around two and found that Sarah had sent him an email.

'_Hey! You left early last nite! You didn't even say goodbye. What are you up to today? Mwah! XoXo.'_

'_Sorry,' _he wrote back, _' I was sort of drunk. Anyway, I was thinking of tagging with Piers tonite but have the house, parents gone. Why?'_

A half an hour later, her response came: _'AWWWW:(__ DON'T GO WITH THEM TONITE! COULD I COME OVER? I got your weed, we can smoke. XOXO.'_

'_OK. What time?'_

'_I'll be there 7.'_

--

Of course, Dudley had to tell his mates he couldn't go with them because Sarah was being a whiny bitch, but he was actually looking forward to seeing her. He'd especially like to have sex with her and let Harry hear, just to prove that he was the _man. _Dudley was going to milk this for all it was worth. Even though, in his parents' eyes, he'd always come out on top, he and Harry had always had their own competitions. Though Dudley used to win by force, Harry won by wit, and it drove Dudley insane. No matter what, it seemed that he couldn't get under his cousin's skin. But Sarah, Dudley realized, was a way to totally get back at Harry. Harry hadn't had sex, _that _much was obvious.

He listened to some music and browsed a porn magazine he'd gotten off Malcom. All of the girls were smiling too brightly, their double D-cup breasts protruding out of skimpy bras, their long, lean legs draped over couches. They looked so content. Dudley couldn't get aroused by it, and so he slipped it back under his mattress.

--

It was fifteen after seven, and Sarah still hadn't shown up. Mum and Dad said something about being gone until after midnight, and if Sarah didn't show up _soon, _then Dudley's plans were shot. He wanted to get in some drinking and pot smoking before nine, and then be able to have Sarah in his room. That would _really _drive Harry mad!

'_So where in the fuck is she?' _thought Dudley gloomily, tromping down to the kitchen, where he rummaged around for unhealthy food. He unearthed some diet cookies and polished off the box, but he was still famished. He proceeded to pull apart the contents of the fridge, but nothing in there looked appealing. There were only vegetables and yogurt. Mum was _really _into his eating schedule now, even after how much she'd said it trespassed on their family's privacy last year. Now Dudley was afraid she'd seen the health merits, and there would be no turning back. He'd give anything for crisps, for a big piece of bloody steak, pasta…

The doorbell rang. "_It's me!" _came Sarah's voice from outside.

Dudley tore himself away from the fridge, and directed his unbridled hunger toward the girl at the door. "Hang on," he muttered, opening the lock. "Took you long enough!" he said, thrusting the door open in Sarah's face.

She was wide-eyed, her bangs brushed straight across her face, her lipstick bright red. Her cleavage was popping out of the little tank top she was wearing, and her black skirt was so tight, her legs seemed buckled. "Mum kept interrogating me!" she explained, throwing her hands in the air.

Dudley stared.

Sarah went on, rather dramatically. "She threatened to check my backpack, so I had to make up a story that I was at Karen's and I don't think she bought it, so I actually had to _go _to Karen's and have her cover for me and—"

"Whatever." Dudley shook his head. As long as she was here, he didn't need to hear this. "Did you bring some?"

"Yes, I did, is that all I get for coming all this way?"

Dudley shook his head, and bent down, kissing her on the forehead. She raised up her face and kissed him on the lips, then smiled and unzipped her backpack, handing him a baggie of weed.

That's hardly enough!" Dudley snapped, surveying it. _'What is she thinking?'_

"It's all I could buy! My allowance is only five quid a week, you know!" Sarah spat defensively.

"Fuck it," Dudley snarled, mashing the baggie in his huge fingers.

"What you mean _fuck it?_ Not like you gave me very much money to go with!"

"Shut your sqealin', let's fucking smoke it."

Suddenly though, Sarah seemed preoccupied. "Where's Saint Brutus?" she asked.

"Where's what?" Dudley stared at her stupidly.

"Harry, your cousin, Harry!" Sarah put her hands on her hips as though _everyone _should know who she was talking about when she said Saint Brutus.

"Locked away in his beddy-room," Dudley grinned, putting his arms around her shoulders, his chin rubbing her hair.

"He's _what?" _Sarah struggled a little bit, pointing her high-heeled toes.

"Yeah, Dad locked him away for the night. It's better that way," he said meaningfully, his crotch all ready getting stiff.

But Sarah turned around and wrenched out of his grasp. "Let him out."

"No!" Dudley exclaimed. _'Why is she being so stupid!?' _"How you think we're going to do anything if he's down here, being a freak as always?"

"Let him out," Sarah said firmly.

"No."

"Fine. Then I'll free him," she shrugged, and before he could grab her, she flew to the stairs. Dudley was hardly as nimble, but he managed to grab her ass. She laughed and hit the banister. _"Get off!" _she squealed.

But Dudley was relentless. If Harry was let free, then _that _meant Harry might be a part of his evening, and nothing depressed him more than the thought of once again giving up sex for his cousin. Besides, Harry would probably attempt to make him look like an asshole in front of Sarah. Harry and Sarah were two _very _separate parts of Dudley's life. He wanted to keep it that way.

Sarah, however, didn't see the importance, for she was holding the door open, and now Harry was free.

--

"Great," commented Dudley, as they all walked down the stairs, Sarah bobbing along energetically in front. "Real smart move, Sarah, now what are we gonna do?"

She turned around, having reached the bottom of the staircase. "You two are going to _get along."_

"Wow, Dudley, how did you ever get a civil girl?" Harry asked smartly. Sarah giggled. She wasn't noticing the seriousness of the situation.

"Oh, fuck yourself, Harry. As though you want to get along any more than I do," Dudley said angrily.

"Maybe that's what you want to make yourself think!" the be-speckled boy said mysteriously.

Dudley stared at him for a good thirty seconds. "_O-kay. _Don't have any idea what you're on about but, whatever."

Harry was obviously noticing that he had the upper-hand, for he grinned. "Sarah. Why do you _go _with him? I've tried to ask him how you two got together, but he's too stupid to reply."

"NOW YOU—" Dudley advanced forward, turning red, but Sarah stepped between them.

"It's okay," she simpered to Dudley, patting his chest. "What do you _mean _why do I go with him?"

Harry looked around for a second, like he was in the midst of a scene he wasn't supposed to appear in. "Er. I mean, no offense to you, you seem okay, but my _cousin? _I mean, why him?"

"I told you, Harry." Sarah shrugged. "I like muscle, and Dudley's lovely. He's not _stupid, _like you said."

"HA!" Dudley exclaimed.

Harry made a face. "Did you say lovely?"

Sarah nodded, looking from boy to boy as though she couldn't quite grasp why they couldn't get along. "What are we waiting for?" she questioned. "I want to go to the park, have some weed, all right?"

"With _him?" _Dudley asked deeply, pointing to Harry.

"Yes!" Sarah declared. "It's your present to me!"

"What!?" Dudley inquired, exasperated. "Present!"

"If you let him come along, and if you're nice to him, we can have sex afterward."

Harry looked more than slightly disgusted, but amused.

Dudley couldn't believe his ears. "I thought we were going to anyway!"

"Well, not now! You have to be _nice," _she stated with a nod.

"You'd better listen to your woman," Harry said.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Dudley hollered.

"There's one point lost!" Sarah giggled. "Now come on, let's go!"

"Hold on," Dudley said. "There is no _way _I'm gonna be sober for _this."_

_--_

With half a bottle of whiskey now in hand, Sarah hanging off his arm, and Harry walking behind them making smart remarks, Dudley all ready felt like this was the strangest night of his life.

Dudley turned around and eyed Harry meanly. "If you try anything stupid," he whispered," I'll tell Mum and Dad."

"Don't you think threatening me is a stupid choice, Duds?" Harry asked sweetly. "I mean, after all, you're the one with the double life. I could easily turn on you."

Dudley glared, but had nothing to say. Harry was right.

They reached Privet Park and Sarah rolled one and lit up, then passed the joint to Dudley. He leaned against the park bench and inhaled deeply. Harry watched them like they were in a movie and he wasn't. He looked them over as Sarah hugged Dudley around the shoulders and took back the blunt, taking a long drag.

"Your turn, Harry," she said.

Harry blinked as though he'd forgotten he was in this, too.

"Oh _no, Sarah. _That was good money!" Dudley said darkly, trying to snatch it away.

"It's only fair," she told him. "Come on, Harry, it's all right."

"Okay," Harry said. "Sure." He took it from Sarah and took a hit, then burst out hacking.

"Big man, cousin," Dudley grinned. "Guess now you're just as bad as me, right?"

Harry gave him a strange look. "Bad?" he asked faintly.

They stared at each other for awhile, and Dudley chose to ignore Harry's weirdness, opting instead for a long drink of liquor. Sarah and Harry kept taking hits, and Dudley gulped down the whiskey.

"Hey, you want a try?" he asked Harry unevenly, wondering why he was even _talking _to the boy, nonetheless offering him precious booze.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Harry replied, just as densely. He was now draped over the park bench, but he sat up and knocked back a bit of whiskey. "SHIT!" he screamed, and laughed hysterically. "THAT IS FOUL!"

Sarah nodded from the swings.

"Good, more for me, then," grinned Dudley, and the two cousins began to chortle raucously. "Hey, you wanna know my… grades?" he asked, lurching forward a bit. He grabbed the back of the park bench and leaned over it.

Harry sat up, smiling from ear to ear. "Yes! Out with… it."

"Right so…" Dudley grabbed back the bottle and took another drink. "Two fails, right? Maths first, Mum said 'sokay, since music is more important—"

"HA HA HA HA!" yelled out Harry, slamming his fist onto the bench in amusement.

"But I passed gym," Dudley said loudly, as though this were a saving grace.

"I always failed gym."

"I know," Dudley said. "So… there… you… are."

Sarah watched them disapprovingly. Dudley wondered why he'd let her get so high. She was difficult when on pot, and tonight was no exception. "Hey!" she proclaimed. "What are you even talking about?"

"Shut up," Dudley declared, waving his hand at her. "So anyway, know what else?"

"What?" Harry beamed.

"Got horrible marks in History class, too. Wars. Who gives a shit? Movies are fine. But a class? A fucking _History class?_" Dudley shook his head solemnly. "No. Way."

"You failed _History, _too?" Harry panted.

Dudley nodded, and proceeded to explain to Harry how Vernon had made such a big deal and called the school, fixing his grades. He knew Harry would appreciate this, and he did. _'Harry is hella funny,' _thought Dudley thickly, and Harry proceeded to say magic phrases. Of course, Mum and Dad would NEVER permit that activity, but now, Dudley didn't know why. It was _hilarious. _Wizards had all _kinds _of funny words.

However, the great evening suddenly went bitter when Sarah decided to be a nasty little bitch.

Harry and Dudley were having a good conversation, and she had the _gall _to interrupt.

"Shut up, Dudley," she said, out of nowhere. "You're _such _bastard."

Harry kept laughing and carrying on, but Dudley turned around very slowly and stared at his girlfriend, perched on the swings. Her hair was falling in her face, her expression dense. The heat was languid.

And everything that had been so cute about her before was now agonizing. Dudley tossed back the rest of the whiskey, and dropped the bottle onto the pavement where it shattered.

Sarah tensed up.

"You _bitch," _Dudley spat. "You cheap, _stupid cow. _I shouldn't keep you around!" He waved a finger at her; if she thought his temper was limited to twelve year old boys and boxing matches, she was dead wrong.

"STOP IT!" she screamed, buckling her knees, and raising up her hands.

Everything seemed to be reeling around Dudley in slow motion.

"I ought to…" he began. "_I ought to…"_

"GET OUT WITH IT!" she screamed. "OUGHT TO WHAT?"

Dudley was momentarily stumped. "_Fuck!" _he exclaimed. "I have to piss. I'll be back." Amid giggles from Harry, he stumbled off to the park restrooms and through open the door.

'_Filthy cow bitch slag,' _he thought grittily, unzipping his trousers in a harsh motion. _'Thinks she can talk to me with that tone, honest to God, I'll teach her, no one talks to Big D like that, cow.' _He proceeded to urinate on something that was neither a urinal nor a toilet. If he'd been in better spirits, he would have found it amusing, but now it just made him angrier. If Sarah thought she was in charge of him, she was mistaken.

He took a moment to look himself over in the mirror and was surprised at how collected he looked: well-groomed and spiked blond hair, large shoulders and dark blue eyes, standing like a hero, a war hero.

All sense of judgment lost, Dudley left his mirrored image and headed back out to the playground, not even noticing he'd just defiled the wall in the _women's _bathroom.

He could see Harry leaving; Harry was a small speck in the distance. Dudley staggered toward the swing set. Sarah stood up and turned around, facing him and holding the swing's chains in two hands.

She had plastered on a silly smile, but her eyes told the truth. "I'm really, really sorry, Dudley," she voiced in a forced voice. "Harry says to lock him in when you get home, he's just left—"

"Are you telling me what to do? _Again?" _Dudley asked lazily in a bleak voice.

"No," Sarah whispered, shaking her head from side to side. "No—I'm not—"

"Think you are," Dudley said firmly, coming closer.

"Dudley, why are you _mad _at me?" she asked, the volume of her voice getting higher. She gripped the chains hard.

"Are you that stupid?" Dudley questioned tersely, stepping over the blockade that surrounded the swing set.

"No—" she said quietly.

"Then why were you talking to me like that? WHY, SARAH? You think I'm some sort of weak bastard, gonna get _told off _by _you?"_

"No!" she exclaimed. "I'm sorry—I said I was _sorry!"_

Only the swing was between them now.

With hardly any thought, Dudley raised up his fist and delivered one of his famous, Junior Heavyweight Champion, right hooks. His balled hand collided hard with her jaw. She let out a gasp and fell to the gravel.

"Please—" she begged, but as she tried to get away, Dudley hit her twice more, in the cheek and in the eye.

He let out a shuddering sigh and turned away from the sight of Sarah struggling to get out of the gravel. She began to sniffle. Dudley sat back on the park bench and looked at the night sky.

After a few minutes, Sarah pulled herself out of the dirt and walked bowlegged to him; she was bleeding from her lip. Dudley held out his arms and she settled herself on his knee, pressing into his chest, her body and hands shaking horribly.

"You didn't mean it," she said quietly, raising up one hand and stroking his bangs.

"No," Dudley said gruffly," I didn't. I don't know what I… was thinking."

"I know you didn't mean to do it," she repeated, and let out a faint laugh, wiping her lip on her shirt. "I suppose I look a right mess."

"Nah," he said. "You still look pretty nice."

She pressed her head into the crook of his neck and began to weep.

"Hey. It's all right," he told her. "I won't do that again."

"But I don't understand," Sarah said defiantly, raising up her head to face him. "Why did you get so _angry?"_

"I dunno," he said. "I just drank too much."

"Sometimes you aren't drunk, though," she whispered, tears pouring down her cheeks silently. She sniffed and wiped her cheek dry. "Sometimes you're just so bloody _angry."_

"I dunno," said Dudley weakly. "Maybe I'm just horrible."

"I don't think so," Sarah told him, shaking her head.

"I do."

Wordlessly, the couple walked to the gazebo, and stripped off sagging jeans, boxers, a tiny skirt and panties. Dudley drove into her, but attempted to be more gentle than usual, even though this was _his _present. He came with a moan and she leaned back, and said something that Dudley had not been expecting:

"I love you."

Dudley pulled up from her, and looked down at her face. "You what?"

"I love you," she repeated. "But do you think maybe we could at least go to the movies sometime?"

--

The second Dudley came home, he ignored Harry's open bedroom door, and proceeded to vomit into the toilet.

He thought it would be so dreadful if Mum and Dad walked in right at that moment, their perfect son smelling like whiskey and covered in stains that reflected the efforts of not-so careful sex, his head in a toilet, his hands stained with the blood of his girlfriend who really had not done anything wrong.

So dreadful, in fact, that he almost wished it would happen.

* * *


	7. Through the Looking Glass

**AN: Changed. **Now DH/JKR's interview compliant!

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Through the Looking Glass**

* * *

Harry Potter might have been the crowned prince of grotesque nightmares, but Dudley's came pretty close that night. Dudley's dreams, unlike Harry's, were scary because they were not cohesive. They were frightening because they were faceless, and decomposed, and not really ideas or images at all, like Harry had, but blurred shapes. Normal happenings were what Dudley had nightmares about: Mum doing the ironing, girls with skipping ropes, a car trip to London with Dad, ice cream. At night, it all seemed so terrifying. 

Dudley woke up the next day to Mum's murmuring voice. She was offering him things, a cold cloth, breakfast, hot tea. All he could do was drift in and out of consciousness. He did not know why he felt so horrible, and he did not wish to remember. But because he had such a strong desire to forget what had happened the night before, it came through clearer than clear. The daylight shone from behind his blinds, that lazy heat seeping in all around him. His blankets suddenly seemed tight, and as warm as fur. His head pounded horribly. He had the feeling that he needed to vomit, but it wasn't really for certain, which made it worse. He raised his hand from underneath the sheets and pushed his sweaty bangs off of his forehead.

_'Harry was there, too,' _was his first thought, as he struggled to raise his head off the pillow. _'Harry making jokes, Sarah loves me, she's probably got some terrible bruises, I wonder if her Mum asks her about it, I wonder what time it is, I want to know why any of it happened, did it happen?' _

"Sweetie," Mum said softly. "You're awake." She was smiling sadly from the edge of his bed.

He moaned slightly, and turned onto his side. His head felt like it was being smashed with clubs.

His mother detected that he was not ready to be roused, and so she left his room. He heard her banging on Harry's door. He wondered how Harry was feeling. Harry on pot. He would have never guessed.

--

"What's up?" Dudley asked Sarah coolly, sitting down next to where she was perched near the sandbox.

She pulled her long black hair to the other side of her neck and turned to face him. Her lip was split, and when she smiled, her lips seemed broken. She also seemed like she hadn't had time to spruce up at all, and her less than cute appearance turned Dudley off more than a little. He wanted her to be normal, and act like everything was okay. But then again, she wasn't Mum and she wasn't Dad.

"Nothing I guess," she replied quietly, and in her voice, Dudley detected something deeper than she'd ever presented before.

"Look," he said," I feel like shit."

She looked away. "Yes, well, me too."

"Your Mum say anything, then?"

Sarah snickered. "Oh yeah, she had _a lot _to say." She rolled her eyes. "I told her I fell."

Dudley grinned and touched her lip lightly with his index finger. "Good aim, then," he commented.

She pursed her lips momentarily and then shook her bangs. "You want to talk about what happened at all?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'll listen if you tell me why you got mad," she replied, and stood up, wrapping her legs around him again and sitting in his lap, pressing her head tenderly to his chest. "I want to get it."

"There's nothing to say," he answered, a bit abruptly.

She moved her head away quickly like he might get angry again. He let out a sigh and patted her hair. "There's just nothing to talk about," he said.

"What about… you know, what I told you?" she inquired, looking at him pointedly.

He searched his thoughts. _'What did she tell me?' _"Uh…" He struggled to remember what in the hell she had told him—it could not have been that important.

Sarah looked doe-eyed and disappointed. "That I _love _you," she said gently. "What do you _think?" _

"Oh!" Dudley exclaimed, as though he knew the whole time. "I think… I think…" _'What do I think? Why in the hell did you tell me that, you loony, THAT'S what I THINK!' _"I don't know," he said passively.

"Do you love me, too?" she pressed.

Before Dudley knew what he was doing, he was nodding at her. "Yeah," he said slowly," sure."

Sarah beamed, looking pretty despite her bruises. "Bad hangover?" she asked softly.

"Worst of my _life. _Mum thought I had a fever, I think. She tried to give me children's medicine and keep me cooped up in the house." He rolled his eyes. "I hate it." Hearing himself say those three words, he paused. Did he _really _hate it? Bits and pieces he liked, really. He liked being coddled, he liked new presents and praise. But he abhorred the fact that even his own _parents _couldn't tell he was experiencing a _hang-over, _or that they trusted him enough not to look for his porn collection or ask him about sex.

"What did she say about Harry?" Sarah inquired, throwing a glance behind them.

Dudley followed her eyes and scowled. Harry was still staring at them. _'What a freak.' _"Same as always, mad at him just because."

"Weird."

"I guess so." Dudley looked back again. Harry's gaze hadn't broken. "Uh, he's like, looking over here like a fucking psycho. Let's go."

"Aw, Dudley, he's cute. Kind of sad and dopey, but cute!" she stated defensively.

Dudley pushed her off his lap gently and they both stood up. "Look, you calling my cousin cute is sort of just… gross, okay?"

"Sorry," she grinned. "He's just—well, look at him! I mean, it was his first time getting blazed!"

"I'm not even surprised. He's sheltered," Dudley shrugged, which was a short way of saying _he's spent most of his life in my cupboard._

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "You'd think he'd been worse than you, him going to Saint Brutus, 'n all."

Dudley's cheeks pinkened as he lied: "Oh, yeah, well, they're all talk, y'know? Not really that tough, plus, Harry's more of a nerd, he doesn't run with the hard blokes."

"That's so depressing."

"Yeah, kind of. But for real, let's leave, he's looking like he's trying to memorize you so he can beat off later," Dudley joked forcedly, but didn't put it past Harry. If the kid wasn't getting any at that stupid Hogwarts school, no doubt Sarah looked like the best thing on the menu, and Dudley might just have to kick Harry's ass irregardless if he heard any name beside _Cedric _being moaned through the wall.

Sarah took Dudley's hand and they walked slowly to the far end of the park, and Dudley stopped near the public bathrooms. (He'd remembered that she'd given Damien head near these very restrooms, and that sounded ideal.) However, Sarah seemed to be on a different wavelength.

"So do you think we could actually go somewhere?" she asked him, dropping his hand.

"Uh… like where?" he grunted, disappointed.

"Like I said last night… like, to the movies or something? Or… I don't know… to your house?"

"My _house?" _Dudley exclaimed. "Are you barmey? What in the hell would we do at my _house?" _

Sarah threw up her hands. "Well, your parents can't be there _all _day, can they?" she demanded. "You could show me your room and stuff—"

"Mum _is _there all day, save when she goes to the market and her teas."

"Her _teas?" _

"Yeah, her ladies' teas, or whatever. Don't your mum do that?"

"Not really. She _works._" Sarah looked vexed. "What does your mum _do _all day?"

Dudley shrugged. "Lots. I guess. I mean, she cleans the counters and stuff."

"Oh."

"Watches the neighbors a lot."

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm serious. She knows everything about them."

"That's really creepy," Sarah said honestly, raising her eyebrows.

"Not _that _creepy," Dudley put in defensively. For some reason, doing anything with Sarah that wasn't in the park or at someone else's house seemed like it was surreal. It had all ready been disturbing enough to have Sarah meet his _cousin. _He didn't think he could deal with her at his _house _while sober.

"Well then, stand guard for me at the corner store. I need to lift some makeup, I want a new lipgloss," she shrugged.

--

"That's right, hit the little bastard!" yelled Dennis.

Dudley was on his knees, swinging his fist left and right, as Piers held a fourteen year old red-haired kid named Johnson to the ground.

"TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME?" Dudley demanded.

"No! _No, I wasn't!" _whimpered the kid.

"He was, too," Gordan said loudly. He'd returned from his hols the night before, and was filled with all sorts of rage toward his father and stepmother, who had attempted to counsel him themselves and made him promise never to smoke or drink again. They'd also advised him against hanging out with Dudley and the others, so as soon as they left for work the next day, he made certain to do all of the things they'd told him not to do.

"Hit him again, Big D!" cheered Piers.

Dudley hooked the kid in the jaw, his pale blue baseball cap swinging to the side, sweat forming on his neck. Johnson looked terrified, and he _should _have been. But he also should have known it was coming, for he'd been spreading rumors that Dudley's champion title in boxing had all been a farce. And that was the only thing Dudley had truly earned.

--

"Brilliant," Malcom sighed. "Now _I'm _the only one who hasn't _fucked." _

Piers was grinning from ear to ear. "Well, there's still Gordan." He took a drink from a whiskey bottle and passed it to Dudley, who finished it off.

"Fuck _you," _Gordan said angrily.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot you were here," Malcom shrugged.

"I still can't work out how Melanie let you bonk her," Dudley said musingly.

They were wheeling their bikes back from Privet Park, as the sky darkened above them. There was a slight breeze that rippled in and out between the street lamps. A dog barked from a distant yard. The heat dragged.

"Well, she _did," _Piers shrugged, almost as though he didn't believe it himself. "She wasn't very drunk either."

"So where did you do it?" Dennis asked.

"In my bed, where else?"

"In your room?" Dudley exclaimed. "With your cartoon sheets?"

"She didn't notice the sheets!" Piers announced, going red.

Dudley, Malcom and Dennis burst into loud laughter. Gordan shook his head from side to side.

"Well, how was she?" Malcom wanted to know, as soon as the laughter died down.

"_He _doesn't know! It was his first time, you asshole," Dennis declared.

Piers grinned. "Yeah I do! She was _awesome." _

"Not as good as Sarah, I'll wager," Dennis winked. "Tell us, Big D, how many times you fuck her?"

Dudley pretended to be humble. "Oh, you know… I don't know… Are we saying like… just straight up sex or other stuff? 'Cause we've had sex at least like…" he tried to count in his head, but he couldn't remember exactly, so he rounded up just in case. "Nine times, I guess."

"Whoa," Malcom said enviously.

"Wait, dude, hold up! _What _other stuff?" Dennis asked eagerly.

"Well, a couple of times I…" Dudley trailed off and made a slightly obscene gesture with his tongue between two of his fingers.

"No SHIT!" Dennis exclaimed, "you SERIOUS?"

"You went _down _on her, Big D?" Malcom demanded. "That's foul!"

"Get stuffed, it ain't foul," Dudley snapped, going bright red.

"It isn't?" Malcom wondered. "Well, then how's it like?"

"Shut up." Equally annoyed and embarrassed, Dudley kept walking in silence.

"Well, you best break up with her soon. Maybe be friends with benefits, dude, but that's my advice to you," Dennis shrugged. "If you've shagged her that many times, she's likely to say the three scariest words you'll ever here in your life."

"_Your dick's small_?" Malcom asked.

"NO!" Dennis declared. He looked around wildly. _"I love you."_ He batted his eyelashes.

Dudley's stomach did somersaults. "Oh. Yeah, okay."

"No seriously, I'm looking out for you, man. You have to cut her lose the second you hear that shit."

"Oh," Dudley said again. _'If I keep going with her, she's not going to want marry me or anything.' _He really had no intent to break up with Sarah now, at least until school was on. Then, he'd really have no use for her, since he'd be at Smeltings, and she'd be going to Stonewall.

Dennis, inspired, began to bop his head to an imaginary beat. He began to sing raucously and crudely in a mock-gangster voice: "YOU GOTTA CUT THAT HOE LOOSE, WORD? CUT THAT HOE LOOSE, WHY? CAUSE IF YOU DON'T CUT THAT SKANK HOE LOOSE, SHE GONNA SUCK YOUR COCK DRY!"

The others started cracking up and despite himself, Dudley had to join in.

"Old school," Gordan muttered approvingly.

Unbeknownst to any of them, Harry Potter was just across the street, watching them with a sort of intrigued fury.

--

Ready to go their separate ways, the boys paused just off Magnolia Crescent.

"Laters," said Dennis. "Good thing to see Johnson on the ground, that asshole deserved what he got, spreading mad lies, eh?"

"Nobody fucks me over," Dudley asserted.

"Wee bastard squealed like a pig, didn't he?" Malcom exclaimed. They all laughed.

"Nice right hook, Big D!" Piers congratulated, and Dudley grinned, but thought for a moment of Sarah.

"Same time tomorrow?" he asked.

"Round at my place," Gordan declared with a sly grin. "My parents are out."

"See you then."

"Bye Dud," Dennis said with a nod.

"See you later, Big D!'

Dudley nodded to them and continued down the street. The sun was nearly all the way behind the clouds. He began to hum the song that Dennis had been singing earlier, ambling at a leisurely pace. At the moment, everything seemed all right with the world. And then:

_"Hey, _Big D."

Interested, Dudley wheeled around to greet whoever it was. However, his eyes fell upon Harry, who was sneering meanly behind him. "Oh," Dudley said. "It's you."

Harry fell in step with him, but they made sure to give each other plenty of room. What occurred next was the same as always, a hurried exchange of insults and put-downs, back and forth, back and forth. Harry would make some smart assed comment, and Dudley would have to explain to him that he had it all wrong. Not to mention, Harry saw it fit to make yet _another _fat joke slip into the conversation. Dudley was honestly tired of it. He'd heard every comparison he needed to of himself and a pig. He really wished Harry would learn some new material, and wondered why he hadn't.

Dudley mentioned Cedric then (he might have mentioned him earlier that week, he had a recollection, but he must have been stoned or drunk) and Harry reacted very strangely. He seemed pissed off, but in an exhausted sort of way. If Cedric _had _been Harry's boyfriend, then something terrible must have happened to him. Dudley figured that was for the best. He didn't need Harry to turn out to be a homo on top of everything else.

Poking fun at Harry's nightmares and at Cedric made Harry produce an amazing response. It had been just the thing Dudley had been waiting for all these years, and so he wasn't prepared to stop taunting the boy.

_"'Come and help me, Dad!'" _said Dudley, in a loud, slow voice. _"'Mum, come and help me! He's killed Cedric! Dad, help me!'" _he continued. Harry was turning red. _"'He's going to—'" _

But suddenly, the joking had gone too far for Harry's liking, for he whipped out his magic wand (?) and was brandishing it toward Dudley's chest.

**"DON'T YOU POINT THAT THING AT ME!" **Dudley cried out, his good mood vanishing instantly. The wands that wizards used terrified him, ever since he'd been given a pig tail--- plus, Mum and Dad had given him a long talking-to after that fateful day and told him how dangerous That Lot was. Dudley just _knew _Harry was itching to put a horrible curse on him. And now, there was no one to be seen.

"Don't you _ever _talk about that again," Harry spat, his green eyes intense and furious behind those dorky glasses. "Do you understand me?"

But Dudley didn't even know what _that _was. Who was Cedric? Who was killing him? Was he dead, or was it made up? It wasn't even that big a _deal. _He didn't know, it had just been fun to have the upper-hand again. But if Dudley would have tried to explain this to Harry, it would have made no difference, and an apology would look worse than weak. So Dudley opted to use the magic wand _against _Harry. He knew that if he pressed enough, Harry's fear of getting expelled would stop him from doing anything.

"_Point that thing somewhere else!" _Dudley said in a hiss.

"I SAID, _do you understand me?" _Harry repeated. If Harry would just lower the thing, Dudley would surely never speak of whatever the _Hell _it was ever again.

_"Point it somewhere else!" _Dudley snarled.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?" Harry bellowed.

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM—" Dudley began, but then Harry must have made something happen with the wand, because he suddenly felt terribly sick, sick and icy, as though he was chilled.

It suddenly went very dark.

Dudley couldn't see clearly, but he _could _make out Harry's form, still just in front of him, Harry seemed conflicted, Dudley wasn't all together sure of what Harry had just done, but it felt awful. Cool and balmy all at once.

"W-what are you d-doing?" Dudley stammered. "_S-stop it!" _

"I'm not doing anything!" Harry snapped, rather meanly. "Shut up and don't move!"

"I c-can't see!" Dudley told his cousin, bewildered. It was true—there were no street lamps, no sounds to advise what dangers may or may not lie ahead. There were no _stars. _"I've gone blind!"

"I SAID SHUT UP!"

Dudley was offended by Harry's manner of speaking, but Harry had done this, so he figured he'd have to listen to him. He felt like a silly child, being bossed about by his cousin who was nearly a foot shorter than he. He stayed against the wall of Magnolia Alley, the cool cement pressing into his sweaty palms—his forehead felt frozen.

But now, _now, _Harry was walking away! _'He can't leave me!' _thought Dudley fearfully,_' He wouldn't, I can't see! He can't leave me—' _

Although he'd been advised not to speak, Dudley _had _to: "I'll tell Dad! Where are you? What are you do—"

"SHUT UP! I'm _trying _to listen!" Harry declared.

_'Listen to what?' _was Dudley's next question, however, it was answered for him.

Just down the roadway was the most horrible noise Dudley had ever heard in his entire life. It was like… fingers down chalk, or a bad leg dragging against a creaky floor. It was the stuff of those "horrendous films" as Mum called them, the nasty ones Dudley and his mates watched while eating vast amounts of snacks, then felt sick afterward because junk food and grotesque cinema (eyeball-eating zombies, hot girls getting brutally raped and cast off into ditches, murders, bangbang you're gone) didn't work well together.

It reminded Dudley suddenly of last night's nightmares, Mum soberly doing laundry, unsmiling, faceless people walking up and down Privet Drive, abandoned houses, Sarah's bleeding lip, she was stumbling along the gravel, Harry was little and crying in the bathroom at school, Dudley was being instructed on what not to eat.

The sound continued, and the second thing Dudley thought was _'dead breathing' _but that was stupid, because the dead couldn't breathe.

Harry wasn't stopping it. He was standing just ahead of Dudley, he was clearer now, just _standing _still like he was beckoning the sound to come forward, he had his wand straight out. Harry was trying to coax whatever it was to come and get Dudley, and Dudley wouldn't stand for it.

"I'll hit you," Dudley said, terrified, as the sound was coming closer, fog seemed to appear right before their eyes. "I swear I will—"

Harry looked momentarily back at him. "Dudley, _shut—" _

Dudley wasn't going to wait for it. He pounded Harry against the jaw and saw his cousin's form crumple to the pavement.

"You moron, Dudley!" Harry said breathlessly. Whatever Harry had called toward them was coming closer; he could hear the dead breathing in his ears, pounding through his veins. He ran forward, maybe he could get past it, he felt blind and suddenly, he collided with the fence and heaved out uneven breaths. He grasped the chain link and shook it. Climbing it was out of the question; he could barely run. His stomach was knotted up, and small goosebumps formed all over his body as the chill grew worse.

Harry was still shouting at him—Dudley wished he could have hit him harder, than at least Harry would have quit nagging him. But Harry's voice was becoming frantic. Dudley threw a glance behind him and saw Harry levitating above the ground before being smashed into the alley wall.

_'What the HELL? What the HELL?' _

Dudley's blue eyes expanded, his body felt frozen stiff and he was numb with fear, but he felt the freezing cold growing and he backed up. Dudley thought of quite a great deal of curse words in his head, but was unable to speak. He kept backing away, his eyes transfixed on Harry, stumbling down Magnolia Alley.

And then, Dudley heard something inside his head:

_"Do you wish to taste death?"_

Dudley stopped in his tracks. It was a high voice, shrill and screeching, but so very kind. Almost infectious.

_"You have quite a raging appetite," _the voice mused breathily, as though it were sighing. _"And death would taste nice, I think." _

Dudley couldn't do anything but stare at the dark. He was feeling lightheaded, as though he'd been dunked again and again in icy water.

The thing went on: _"There are no diets here," _it said in a swirling, far-off tone. _"No eating schedules. No one will chastise you. No, if you take my offer, you can become one of my kind, and you can devour as many souls as you like._ _You show potential, but nobody sees it. And nobody will ever see it, not in this life, dear boy, no, not in this life."_

There was a jolt, a shrill screeching in Dudley's ears like the brakes of an old car, and the voice screamed: **_"YOU ARE A WORTHLESS, FAT FAILURE, YOU—YOU, DUDLEY DURSLEY."_**

Dudley tripped and crumpled to the pavement, the screaming still in his ears; he covered his face like a small child would. The screams morphed into another sound.

The sound was a squealing animal or child, but it was so twisted and grotesque in his ears that he wasn't certain which. He had a flashed memory go through his mind—there was a baby, two babies? Shrieks, _terrible _shrieks. He knew it was him and Harry, but he didn't know why they were screaming—or which one of them was screaming, or if _either _of them was screaming! Mum and Dad were there in the memory, too, but they weren't doing anything for Harry and this made Dudley scream. They kept offering him things—a pacifier, a toy, a bottle—and he kept shrieking and screaming, no one was paying any attention to Harry, why weren't they? And Dudley didn't _want _those things! The walls of the house seemed a hundred feet high. Harry looked sick, washed-out—

-- Dudley was posed in front of the mirror at school putting on his Smeltings uniform. This must have been third year because when he tried to pull up the knickerbockers, they wouldn't go. He kept tugging, bored at first, as though if he did it enough, they'd go easily over his thighs. But this only succeeded in ripping the trousers—his face turned bright red—

--_"I DON'T WANT TO EAT THIS!" _shrieked Dudley, five years old. He threw a container of ice cream across the kitchen and it collided with the window. _"THE KIND'S NOT RIGHT! NOT RIGHT!" _For some reason, this made him pound his fists and cry, how embarrassing--

--"Give me that," a twelve-year old Dudley commanded, ripping the finished homework out of a brown-haired boy's hands, "This way," he said," we both fail—"

--"Don't you just hate him?" whispered Sandy Hox, of Number Nine. "He's such a whiny little tub!"—

--People were laughing in the hallways as Dudley emerged from the nurse's office- must have been fourth year? "They say you're on a diet—it's about time," someone yelled out, and the laughter grew louder—

--"He's the most terrible boy ever"—

--The boy in the mirror looked cruel and angry as he splashed water in his face. He'd hit a girl, and he hardly had time to care. He spent his time pushing kids more than five years younger than him into the gravel and he had nothing, nothing to live for, and everyone would do well to just stay away from him—

--

Revolted, Dudley pressed his hands over his face to block out these memories. His face felt like ice but he didn't care, he didn't need to care. He was Dudley Dursley. And he was a failure.

--

Dudley half-awoke what seemed to be a million years later to the sound of desperate voices. He could only see straight in front of him, it took too much effort to look side to side, but he felt as though he was being dragged along. He was still chilled, but even more so, he felt as though he was lolling. It was worse than any workout; it was as though he'd been beaten repeatedly in the gut. His stomach felt twisted, nauseous. All of a sudden, his knees buckled and he lurched forward. Whoever was carrying him cried out, and he was pulled back. The sound of screams still rang in his eardrums. He couldn't shake the memory now. He felt despondent, thick with grief, and he kept wondering why Mum and Dad weren't _doing _anything? (Couldn't they hear him crying?)

He was being coaxed to keep moving off and on, but he had absolutely no will to move. He was being made to walk up stairs, now, propped up, he felt as though he were dead and being used as a puppet. He couldn't shake those images; those horrible images.

Was that what he really looked like?

All of a sudden, Mum was in front of him.

She was saying things in a worried voice, but Dudley couldn't answer. His only thought was that whatever had made him feel so very cold didn't make him feel all too well and maybe he shouldn't have had anything to drink earlier that evening.

He promptly vomited all over the doormat.

--

Everyone was screaming and yelling. Dudley was made to sit in a chair and was given a large basin. He looked blearily up at everyone. His stomach convulsed and he puked again, the liquid thumping into the bottom of the tin basin. Harry made a face.

Dudley wasn't sure what Harry thought he was doing, but whatever it was had been a very disturbing trick, and Dad and Mum should punish Harry dearly for it. Dudley hardly thought about when they were that little—he knew Harry was attempting to make some sort of point, but he didn't know that Harry would remember that, Harry hadn't even been there for most of it! Harry _was _good in that magic stuff—he was using Dudley's guilt against him, after all.

Mum and Dad were fighting with Harry over whatever had happened. Harry was arguing, of course, saying he hadn't caused it, but Dudley knew better. If he was Harry, he'd be using that wand every second he got.

Dudley wondered if he'd gotten high with the guys and just forgot. Through hazy vision, Dudley could see owls, letters, and all he thought was _'not again' _and everyone kept shouting, he felt like his head was pounding. Then Mum was being ranted at by a person Dudley couldn't see, and Harry stormed away, and Dad was furious, so then Mum promised Dudley she'd make a pot of tea and take him out shopping the next day.

Dudley heaved again.

--

"You sound like shit," said Piers on the other end of the phone.

It was the next day, around two o'clock, but Dudley hadn't risen from bed yet. He still felt sick, depressed, like he couldn't do anything.

"I feel like it," was his tired response. He couldn't even manage a properly threatening tone.

Piers sighed and they were silent for nearly three minutes. "So you aren't coming tonight, then?"

"I guess not."

"That's not cool, Big D. I won't go either, then."

"Idiot," Dudley replied very quietly, flipping a page in the music magazine he was browsing. "That sounds gay."

"No!" Piers said defensively. "They just don't know how to roll like you do."

They both paused. Dudley flipped another page. "Whatever," he said. "That all?"

Piers sighed again. "I guess so."

"Okay, then."

"Get better soon, I guess."

"Yeah, whatever. Later."

"Later."

Dudley hung, then sighed, too, and stared up at the ceiling. He wanted to ask Harry what had attacked him, exactly, but he didn't want to sound stupid. He'd heard something about a prison, and Demon-somethings, and Dad had sounded discouraged that Dudley hadn't beaten whatever it was into the ground.

Dudley briefly considered getting up to ask Harry, but decided against it. They'd only quarrel. Besides, Harry was locked in his room again, and Dudley didn't want anyone to think he was siding with him.

He wondered, instead, what everyone would think if he told them why he was feeling ill, why his ears were still ringing with the sound of babies shrieking, and voices—all the voices. The guys would think he was insane. Nobody tolerated Harry anyhow, but imagine if they knew the _truth? _And what would Sarah think? _'Probably that I was just blazed.' _Dudley had a very brief realization there was a lot concerning his family and life that his friends could never know.

There was a gentle knock at his door, and Petunia came in. She had worry written all over her thin face. "How are you feeling?" she asked.

Immediately, Dudley rolled over and made his voice seem weaker than it was: "Oh, Mum, okay, I guess."

Petunia smoothed out her sundress and sat at the edge of her son's bed. "I don't want to upset you," she began soothingly," but I want to know what happened last night. What did that dementor _do _to you?"

"The what?" Dudley asked slowly.

"_He _said that's what they're called," Petunia stated crisply, with a nod toward the wall that she was indicating Harry. "They…" her voice got very worried. "They take peoples' _souls_. But they didn't get yours."

Dudley blinked. "They _what?" _Harry world was surely fucked up. Dementors stealing souls? Cedric dying, freak letters that screamed at Mum? It almost made Dudley feel like his life was normal. He wondered what was worse: the Privet Drive drama or some soul-sucking things that guarded prisons. It was a very hard call.

"Don't be scared," Petunia said, as though she was slightly terrified herself. "You're okay, and that's what matters."

"Wait… so… what was one of those things doing near our house, Mum?" Dudley wanted to know, sitting up.

"We're not sure, sweetie. It's something to do with… ah, _problems _his world has been having lately."

Dudley stared at her. _'What in the bloody fucking hell?' _he thought.

"Do you need anything? Any tea, dear?"

Without any real interest, he nodded.

Petunia smiled weakly, and strode over to the door.

"Mum?"

"Yes, sweetums?"

Dudley waited a second before he spoke. "Mum, am I… a failure? I mean… well… _Am_ I?"

"Diddy, _what?" _cried out Petunia. "Why? No! Of course not!"

He wasn't so sure. After all, _she _hadn't seen the reel of images, almost like a disgusting movie.

"Who says you're a failure?" she demanded.

"No one, Mum, it's fine. It's just…" he trailed off and shrugged. "It's nothing."

Petunia frowned sadly but left.

Dudley did feel as though his soul was gone, but he'd been feeling like that long before any Dementors showed up in Surrey.

--

The next day was almost a good day. Although Dudley still felt slightly under the weather, Harry had let it slide to Petunia that when he'd been attacked in the past, he'd been given chocolate to recover. This inspired Mum to bake an enormous chocolate cake with rich dark cocoa frosting.

Harry said that wasn't the idea, but Dudley was permitted to polish it off nonetheless.

* * *


	8. The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said

**AN: **It goes without saying that, although fabulous, the song_"White Rabbit" _has been picked apart too much by me! Between this fic and its companion, I've run out of song lyrics to use as chapter titles. So now, I'll use random song quotes or Alice-inspired stuff. _Also, _thanks to all of you who've been reading and reviewing. It's much appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said**

* * *

Vernon sighed, holding up a large, white dress shirt. "You fancy this one?" He raised up his other hand, in which he was gripping a black silk shirt with maroon buttons. "Or this, maybe?"

Dudley grumbled and shrugged.

Apparently, Mum had decided that Dudley's formalwear for school events and family outings was lacking, and so she had entrusted Dad with the chore of taking him out to the mall.

"I don't have a preference myself," Vernon muttered, looking bewildered. "Let's see what she says again." He reached into his jacket pocket and took out a small shopping list. He looked up at Dudley. "She says you also need new trainers."

Dudley made a face. "_No."_

"Well, can't say I blame you, son. Shoe shopping was never my forte, either," chuckled Vernon. "Which of these do you think? Or would you rather a blue one?"

Dudley sighed. "Why did Mum send you? Usually she just picks 'em out."

"Right, well, Mum said—" Vernon stopped abruptly and then changed his tune. "I decided I'd take you myself, that's all."

"Mum's normally best at this stuff," Dudley shrugged.

"Right," Vernon said sharply. "Let's buy a few of each and take them home, then see what she says."

"Whatever," Dudley replied.

There was a very thick silence.

Vernon cleared his throat, gathering up as many shirts as he could. "Tell me, Dudley. Is anything bothering you lately? I mean, like what happened the other night and all?" He looked around carefully to make sure no one was around.

Dudley shook his head. "No, nothing's the matter."

"Are you… sure? You haven't been out with your mates for an age."

"Haven't felt like it."

"Maybe you're ill?"

"No."

Vernon thought for a moment. "Have you been practicing up for the new school year with the boxing?"

"Sometimes." Dudley wasn't sure what Dad was getting at, but it was very eerie.

"Anything you'd like to discuss?"

Dudley stared at his father. "No," he replied.

His dad's expression was a mixture of both disappointment and gratefulness. "All right, then, let's clear out," he said, and cuffed Dudley on the shoulder.

--

"Honey!" called Aunt Petunia up the stairs, later that night," Phone for you!"

Dudley lumbered past Harry's bedroom just as Mum said very loudly," _And it's a girl!"_

"Oooooh," Harry said from behind his locked door, dry as a desert.

Snatching the phone from his mother, Dudley answered it.

"_Hi, Dudley!" _Sarah said.

"Hey," he replied. "How did you get my number?"

"From Piers. I hope that's okay."

"I guess it is," Dudley said back, but noticed Mum's very curious expression. He headed back upstairs. If Harry heard anything, it wouldn't matter, because he was pretty much a prisoner. "So what's up?"

"Well, where have you been? I was worried. Piers said you've got a bad cold."

"Something like that."

"Are you feeling better?" she warbled.

"Yes."

"Where have you been, then?" she repeated. "I miss you! You should come back to the park! It's ever so boring without you."

"I will." Dudley wasn't sure what to say, but Sarah kept making it easy by asking him things.

"Do you want me to come over, then?"

"No," he said quickly.

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Just don't, okay? Maybe you'll catch my sickness."

"All right," she said dejectedly. "Well, come by tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Maybe."

"Well…"

"Bye," Dudley said.

"I love you," Sarah said.

Dudley paused, his heart racing. He punched the End button on the phone, and hung up.

"What?" said Harry through the wall. "No phone sex? You aren't any fun, Dudley."

"You're not allowed to come outside!" Dudley said back. "I think I pretty much win."

Harry's lack of a response confirmed this statement.

Dudley walked back downstairs, and was greeted almost instantly by his mother.

"Who was that?" she asked very non-casually.

"No one," Dudley replied. He reddened a bit and put the phone back on the receiver.

Petunia smiled. "Does this no one have a name?"

"I don't know."

"Oh come on, sweetheart, no need to be shy!" Petunia exclaimed.

"It's nothing, Mum. Really," Dudley said, with the most solemn face he could muster. "Just this girl I see at the park sometimes." He headed to the fridge and pulled out a plate of veal chops from last night's dinner.

"PleaseDudders, I won't embarrass you! Can I meet her?"

Dudley picked up a whole chop and took a bite out of it. "No need to, Mum," he said through a full mouth," she's just some girl, anyway."

"She _called _you, though."

"It's a phone," Dudley explained, swallowing, and taking another bite, licking his fingers. "People call people."

"Fine," Petunia said with a merry wink. "Keep your secrets." She swatted him playfully with a dish towel and left down the hallway.

"I will, Mum," he said aloud. "I will."

--

"Spent an extra long time at dinner," Harry said through the wall.

Dudley rolled over in bed.

"I know you're awake," his cousin stated.

"Yeah, so? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I heard you downstairs, and you spent an extra long time at dinner. Going back to your habit of having six helpings of every meal, or what?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dudley answered. He'd only had two, and besides, if Mum and Dad were letting him eat more because of the Dementor attack, then he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

"Well, first the cake and now that. Honestly, you _must _be feeling better."

"I am," Dudley snapped, and looked at the ceiling.

"Pretty bad, wasn't it?" Harry asked, after awhile.

"What's pretty bad? A diet?"

Harry snorted loudly. "Well, probably that, too, but I was referring to you almost getting kissed by a Dementor the other night."

Dudley was silent. He wasn't sure if Harry was being facetious or not. "It wasn't kissing me," he said, slightly annoyed.

"No, that's what you _call _it when it tries to take your soul."

"Oh." Dudley turned over again. "Yeah, guess it was pretty bad."

"Scariest thing I'd seen when it first happened."

"Pretty scary, I guess."

Harry laughed. "You _guess? _You weren't all that tough up against it, I'll tell you that."

"Was _too. _Anyway, you didn't see," Dudley declared.

"Whatever, Dudley."

"Why did you do that to me?" Dudley asked.

"I didn't," Harry replied, as loud as he could be without waking Mum and Dad. "I honestly _didn't. _I _wanted_ to do something to you, but I didn't. And besides, I'm not that powerful. I couldn't just make a Dementor pop out of nowhere—"

"You could be lying. How the fuck do I know?"

"I guess you're right. Guess you'll have to take my word for it," Harry said, almost bitingly.

Dudley turned over again. "I guess so."

"So, Aunt Petunia interrogate you over Sarah's phone call?"

"Fuck yeah. I don't know why that stupid cow thought of calling the house," Dudley said darkly.

Harry gave a little chortle. "Hmm," he said disdainfully," maybe because she _likes _you?"

"I guess so."

"Hard for you to believe too, isn't it?"

Dudley was quiet. "No," he replied tersely. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, _come _on. Of course she's going to call you; she's your girlfriend, or whatever. Your shag buddy."

"It was dumb of her to call," insisted Dudley.

"Yeah, well, what are you going to do? Beat her face in tomorrow?"

"NO!" Dudley exclaimed, sitting up in bed. "That was just one time! Besides, I didn't beat her face in!"

"I don't understand you," Harry replied. "I really, honestly don't. With your gang, and your little lies, and your perfect son routine, and your perfectly fine girlfriend who you beat up on—"

"I'm _not _perfect!" Dudley said adamantly. "And I didn't beat her up! Plus, I didn't _mean_ to hit her!"

"_Okay. _Fair. But do you even _like _Sarah?" Harry snapped.

"Yeah!" Dudley snarled back. "I mean, I think so."

"You _think _so? God, you are _so _stupid. Don't you even know how to tell when you like someone?"

"I don't—"

"Tell me, do you say you love her when you're bonking her brains out?"

"No! Shut _up, _you don't know anything about it!"

"I know it pretty fucking obvious that _she _likes _you—"_

"_Yeah? _Well, even_ I_ know that!" Dudley stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Harry made a sound that suggested he was laughing into his pillow. When he finally recovered, he said: "Just promise me you're not going to beat her up again, okay?"

"Why should I promise you a fucking thing?"

"Because you obviously—" Harry stopped talking. "Never mind, okay? Why should I have to convince you, it should be common logic not to hit kids, let alone your _girlfriend_—"

"I don't _only _hit girls and kids."

"And you're proud of it, which is why I don't understand you."

"So what?"

"Dudley. Let's be through with this conversation, okay?"

Dudley settled back onto his pillows and shrugged, as though Harry could see him through the wall. "But wait—"

Harry sighed loudly.

"—Who's Cedric, anyway? I mean, really."

There was a very long silence. Dudley was sure Harry had fallen asleep, but then:

"A friend I had at school."

"Just a friend?"

"What?" Harry asked menacingly.

"I mean," Dudley went on, but cautiously," you're not some wanker, right?"

Harry sighed again. "_No_, Dudley, I'm not some wanker."

"He's not really your boyfriend?"

"I never _said _he was. You did."

"I know. That was a good one, wasn't it?"

Through the wall, Harry snorted. "Not really, it was sort of stupid. And no, he's not—I mean…" Harry paused again. "He _wasn't _my boyfriend."

"Okay," said Dudley, with relief. "But then… what happened to him?"

"He DIED, okay?" Harry snapped suddenly. "He _died _and I couldn't _stop _it!"

Dudley wished he hadn't mentioned it. "Oh," was all he could say. Then," People die at your school?"

"Yeah."

Dudley took a minute or so to mull this over. At Smeltings, some kid had hung himself by the dining hall chandelier and a teacher had found him the next morning. He was an older boy, though, one Dudley had never met, so he didn't care very much. He wanted to ask Harry why Cedric's death had anything to do with him, and why Harry was upset over the fact that he didn't stop it, but he decided against pressing that matter further.

They were both silent for quite a while.

"Harry?"

"_What_, Dudley?"

Dudley sighed.

"You didn't tell the Dementor to steal my soul, did you?"

Harry chuckled. "No, Dudley. _Damn _it."

"So I still have it?"

"Yes, Dudley."

Dudley turned over again.

"Is _that_ all?" Harry wanted to know, sounding more than annoyed.

"…Yeah."

"Well, then." Harry paused. "Goodnight, Dudley."

"Goodnight, Harry."

--

Dudley woke up the following morning to the sound of Dad singing. Severely baffled (Dad singing either meant something very good or very bad), Dudley creaked down the stairs. From the dining room, Dad spotted him.

"Dudley! Can you believe it? Ho, _ho! _Can you _believe _it?"

Dudley yawned. "Wha', Dad?"

Vernon waved a letter in the air. "We have just been declared the winners of the—" he paused to read off the paper—"All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition! I didn't even know a thing existed! Ha ha!" He did a little jig, making the photographs on the walls shake.

"Uh… that's exciting," Dudley said tonelessly, still half-asleep. _Lawns?_

"Didn't even know it existed!" repeated Vernon. "Imagine! We should have been winning every year, by God, but this is as good as anything!"

"_There's my boy," _Petunia greeted, ticking out of the kitchen in her heels and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "Did your father tell you the news? Isn't it _great? _Just think, when the hosepipe ban made everything seem so unhappy!"

Dudley was utterly lost now. How had the ban made 'everything unhappy'? Lawn wasn't all that important in his opinion. He didn't really care either way whether the lawn was perfectly trimmed and well-kempt, or raging and yellow. There were important things to worry about in life, and to Dudley, lawn just wasn't one of them.

"The award ceremony begins at two PM sharp, and we're going to get dressed up," Vernon said excitedly.

"_I'm _coming, too?" Dudley demanded.

"Why, of course! It's a proud family moment, Dudders!"

Petunia nodded in agreement, glassy-eyed. "Then you'll be able to show off your new clothes!"

"Oh goody," spat Dudley. "You know, I _was _going to meet my mates today—"

"Son, you still can!" Vernon said merrily. "There will be plenty of time when you get back, then you can brag about it to all of them!"

'_Like I'm going to tell them we won some award for our grass.'_

--

At three PM, the family was nearly back home again. It would have been amusing to Dudley if Dad weren't so mad. Apparently, there _was _no lawn competition, there was only a wee farm and an elderly chap who raised chickens in a shack.

"BUT THIS IS THE ADDRESS!" Vernon had boomed, shoving the letter in the farmer's face.

"I und'stand you, sir! No need te' yell! Need a cuppa tea?"

As it turned out, Vernon did _not, _and commanded both Dudley and Petunia to get back in the van. He proceeded to make bitter comments about the government until they were back in Surrey.

* * *


	9. Late, For a Very Important Date

**

* * *

**

Chapter Nine: Late, For A Very Important Date

* * *

"And the bleeding Yorkshiremen are off, too, it's not _only _Leeds, it's the damned tele commercials, they do their brainwashing, then—" Vernon was saying loudly, as Petunia and Dudley followed behind him into the house.

Petunia stopped short and gave a shriek.

"_What, _Mum?" Dudley asked snappishly. He just wanted to change and head over to the park. He didn't have time for any more commotion.

"A-a—a—" Petunia quavered, pointing at the ground. _"A SPOT!"_

Dudley peered over her shoulder. True enough, there were muddy spots on the tile, as though someone had stamped around the front entrance.

"That _bloody _boy," Vernon growled. "POTTER! Mark my words, Petunia, I'll cast him in the road, I don't care what any bleeding fancyhat crackpot headmaster says! HOW DID HE GET OUT? FOOLPROOF, I SAY!"

But Mum wasn't listening, for she was all ready at work scrubbing the floor.

His eyebrows raised, Dudley walked around her and over the kitchen counter to grab a leftover bun. "Hey," he said, his eyes falling upon a note. He picked that up instead. "This thing says something—_To the Mugg—" _he paused. "Muggles?"

Dad's eyes filled with rage. "Give me that!" he shouted, and snatched it. _"To the Muggles, Your nephew is with us (his godfather, teachers, etc.). He is in good hands and is safe. Don't worry about him—he is in our care! He will see you next summer!" _

Petunia looked up and shook her head. "Imagine, couldn't even clean our floor."

"Bloody magicians! No manners at all!" Vernon began, and so Dudley took it as his cue to leave immediately. He snatched the bun and crammed it into his mouth.

Wherever Harry was, damn it, he was lucky.

--

"DUDLEY!" Piers announced.

"Big D, man? It's been like, forever, or something," Dennis said coolly, taking a drag off his blunt. "What, you find a better crew than us?"

"Naw," Dudley responded, approaching them, much more comfortable in a t-shirt and sagging jeans.

"I _told _you," Piers affirmed. "He was sick."

"What, like puking in the toilet and shit like that?" Gordan wanted to know.

Dudley shrugged. "More like all over the floor."

"_Aww. _Not cool," the boy replied. The others laughed.

"I miss anything?" Dudley asked, as Piers handed him a cigarette.

"Not really," the scrawny boy said. "Shit doesn't happen when you're not here."

"Get stuffed." Dudley lit up.

"No, I mean it!" Piers pressed.

Malcom shoved him. "What _are _you, obsessed?" He turned to Dudley. "S'all he talked about, really." He imitated a high, girly voice: _"Where's Big D? Big D, Big D!"_

"NO!" Piers declared. "I _didn't_!" he said desperately.

The boys chuckled.

"Little _poof_," Dennis said sardonically. "Did Melanie _really _fuck you, or were you just sprauncing?"

Piers went red. "I wasn't—of course she did—"

"Wanker, wanker!" Dennis said. "Dudley, you better watch out!"

Dudley's expression went dark. "Shut the _fuck _up about him. He's not a fucking pansy." He exhaled smoke and shook his head. "Honest to God, you guys are such fuckers."

'_No one calls Piers gay except me,' _Dudley thought. _'Besides, he may be daft but he's not like __**that. **__He fancied Sarah and now Mel.' _After all, Piers was Dudley's first friend, and also the one he could tolerate the most, even though he _did _pull stupid shit.

Piers' expression silently thanked him.

"Oi! So there you are!" Sarah announced happily, striding toward them, arm-in-arm with Melanie.

Dudley nodded at her, trying to look stoic.

Sarah broke away from Mel and hugged Dudley around the waist. "Feeling better?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," he said nonchalantly, his arm around her lower back. "But—_wait—" _He made a mock sound of puking and Sarah shrieked.

"_OH MY GOD!" _she squealed. "_DON'T DO THAT!"_

The guys laughed and clapped.

"Disgusting," said Melanie, holding hands with Piers.

"I missed you," Sarah said.

"Okay?"

The guys snickered.

"Didn't you miss me too?"

Dudley rolled his eyes. "Bugger, Sarah. Cut it out."

"Come on, Dudley, just say you love the girl," Melanie declared.

Dudley gave them all a frantic glance and lugged Sarah away. Once they'd gotten to the park bathrooms, he wheeled on her. **"Don't **_**do **_**that."**

"What!?" she exclaimed.

"Make me look like a right idiot, that's what!"

"I wasn't _trying _to!" she shouted. "Anyway, you're the one who hung up on me!" she challenged, folding her arms. "Can't even say you love me on the phone?"

Dudley's blue eyes widened a bit and then went back to normal. "Naw, it's just, my Mum got on the other line."

"I didn't hear anyone."

"Yeah, well, _I _did. So there."

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Fine. Where's Harry?"

"Why do you _always _ask about _Harry?" _Dudley snarled. "Are you _trying _to piss me off?"

"No! I just haven't seen him?"

"He went off with some people from school today. He's not coming back," he told her, almost like he was rubbing it in her face. He didn't like how well she and Harry seemed to have gotten along. It was definitely disturbing.

Sarah made a face. "That's too bad. I didn't tell him goodbye."

"_What?" _Dudley demanded. "What are you _talking _about? You knew him for like a week."

"And I've known you for about two months."

"So?"

"So… I don't know!" she said, throwing up her hands.

"Do you have…" Dudley trailed off to try and put this a tactful way: "some kind of _problem _I'm not getting?"

"What?" she asked stuffily.

"I mean, you're being weird."

"Well, you didn't even say you missed me!"

"Okay, I _did, _happy?" Dudley scoffed.

She raised her brow. "Do you mean it?"

"Yeah!" Dudley affirmed, but thought back to he and Harry's conversation. _'Do you even know when you like someone?'_

"All right then. No problems," she responded, and snuggled him again, but her eyes told a different story. "I'm just a little stressed, that's all."

"Why?" he asked quietly, though he honestly didn't care, moving his hand to her locks.

She blushed a little bit. "No reason, it's—it's stupid, and it'll be solved by the end of this week, I'm sure of it. I'm just being daft."

"_O-kay_," Dudley said, and dropped the matter.

"Do you _really _love me?" she asked.

"I thought we were done with this!"

"I WANT TO KNOW!"

Dudley stared at Sarah, her tiny hands on her hips, her tight jean shorts pulling tightly at her slender waist, her black hair touching her shoulders lightly, bangs above her eyes, cleavage.

"Sure," he said reproachfully.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're the best girlfriend I've ever had," he said, knowing this wasn't all that big of a deal.

But it seemed to be good enough for her. "Do you want me to give you a blow job?" she questioned casually.

Was there _any _reason to ask?

Nobody was hanging out behind the back wall of the bathrooms, so Dudley leaned up against the wall and Sarah knelt down in front of him. For some reason, this angle made her look rather young; she bit her lip. He'd never seen anything so hot.

--

"Welcome home, dear," called Mum from the living room. Dad made some sort of greeting as well.

"Oh—" Dudley said, stopping short. "You're up late." He headed for the stairs immediately.

"Come here, son," Vernon said," Take a look at this wonky weather they're having in Bristol."

"Uh…" He paused. "I'll be down in a minute."

"Dudders, we haven't seen you for _ages. _Been at tea?"

"Er… yeah," Dudley said, with a brisk nod. He had to get upstairs without them seeing him. He hadn't completely lowered his trousers for Sarah to give him oral sex, which he realized was a very stupid idea on his part. He'd been able to hide it at the park—it was gloomily dark outside—but here? In the light?

"Come on in," Vernon motioned. "You'll miss it!"

"I—" Dudley began, and then said quickly: "I have to use the toilet!" With that, he went upstairs as fast as he could.

After he'd hid the offending trousers (he might have to toss them) and taken a shower, a soft knock came at his door.

"Yeah?"

"Darling," Mum said," I'm sorry at how very upset your father and I were today. Harry just _infuriates _us, we don't _understand _him—"

"Okay," Dudley said briskly, his face still bright red, heart still palpitating.

--"And sometimes we can't control our anger about him, it's just—I don't like to talk about it, at all, but that doesn't mean you can't ask me questions."

'_Yeah fucking right,' _he thought. _'Like you'd calmly talk to me if I asked about your damned sister.'_

"Okay," he said.

"Just because we worry about him a lot does not mean we don't care about you."

"_Okay_," he declared.

There was a silence.

"Goodnight?" Petunia asked sadly.

"Goodnight, Mum," Dudley answered tersely. _'I stuck my cock in my girlfriend's mouth,' _he wanted to tell her,_' how's that for teatime?'_

--

Dudley went online and checked his email. There were a few randy ads from porn sites he subscribed to, but then a message from Piers Polkiss.

_Hey Dudley, Melanie's mad at me. Anyway, we broke up. Bye. _

_Piers._

Dudley shook his head. What a waste of an email!

_Well she doesnt date anyone for long, _Dudley wrote back. _I think she just likes screwing blokes. I wouldnt feel bad about it—_

He paused and deleted that last sentence. It sounded too hopeful. He pressed Send.

Seconds later, another message popped up:

_Still, I'm a loser! Bye! _

_Piers_

Dudley felt like bashing his head with the keyboard. He didn't feel like giving too many words of encouragement, so he wrote back: _Youll get more pussy when you go back to school, maybe like after swimming or something. _

He hit Send.

Piers did not respond.

"Fine," Dudley said aloud, but was glad.

He had a new message from Sarah:

_Much better than with Damien. WAY BIGGER THO XOXOXO._

He reddened again, but wrote back: _What did you expect._

_Mum's making me go with her to the seaside tomorrow. Except it's like, off Newport where the sea dried up._

Dudley sniggered. What was it with Mums and the sea? Or lack thereof.

_Im sorry, _he wrote.

_That's OK. I'll be back next week. And I promise I'll be better._

_--_

The next day, Mum went into town and bought him pens, pencils, paper, a new book bag… Just like last year, she was giving him all the materials for failure.

* * *


	10. The Duchess

**

* * *

**

Ten: The Duchess

* * *

The following Thursday, Dudley was zoning out on the couch watching some sort of TV drama. It was too hot to understand it. The week had been good—it was sad to say it, but having Sarah gone made things less complicated, even if he wouldn't have minded getting sucked off or having sex with her. Sarah's tongue ring had proved itself more than worthy.

Instead, Dudley had spent time with his mates, throwing rocks at cars, beating kids up and drinking as much liquor as they possibly could. The only weird thing was Piers. He hadn't been at the park for days, and he'd never replied to Dudley's last email. Plus, Mel was now dating Malcom. Dudley figured Piers just needed time to cool off.

"DUDLEY! IT'S FOR YOU," Vernon shouted as though on a battleground, holding the phone over his head like a throwing star. "MIND YOUR TRAINERS!"

Dudley looked up from the television screen and realized that the kitchen sink was flooding. Dad was standing in the midst of it, in one hand the phone, and in the other a wrench, looking quite dangerous. Dudley kicked off his shoes and sloshed into the kitchen, where the water was gathering around the island counter.

"BLEEDING CONTRAPTION! BLOODY SINK—" screamed Vernon while whacking the sink with the wrench, and Dudley snatched the phone from him and padded out into the hallway, his socks soaking wet.

"'lo?" he asked, peeling his drenched socks off each foot. They made a squelching noise.

"What the fuck is the matter with your Dad?" Dennis declared with a laugh.

"I don't know, something's up with the pipes," Dudley replied casually, shaking water off one foot.

"Last time I called your tea cozy was on fire. Does shit like that _always _happen at your house?"

"To Dad, yeah. Not to Mum."

Dennis cracked up. "Right on. Anyway, we're having a party tonight at my place. Hardcore shit, okay?"

"Sure," Dudley nodded.

Dennis paused. "Piers isn't invited. I think it's better without him," he said, but the tone of his voice hinted that he was waiting for Dudley to protest.

"Fine," Dudley said carelessly. "Whatever, doesn't matter."

Piers would probably have a fine time at home, dusting off his mother's dolls.

Dudley shook his head as he hung up. That was a cruel thought. Piers wasn't all that terrible, but he wasn't too phased that the boy wasn't going to come. Dudley needed to have a break from him.

--

Dennis, as opposed to Piers, through the _greatest _parties on Privet Drive. As soon as Dudley walked through the door, he was greeted by the fumes of cigarettes and pot. Good-looking girls were knocking back shots for a bet on the front porch, and Damien was dealing marijuana on the staircase. Loud rap music pulsed throughout the house.

"Yo, D!" Malcom greeted, his arm around Melanie. "Check _this _out! Check _this _out!" Melanie rolled her eyes.

Dudley grinned; it was obvious Malcom was hammered all ready.

"I'm gonna _get _some!" he announced, and almost stumbled to the floor.

"If you act like _that _you won't!" she said shrilly, and smacked him on the forehead.

Dudley walked past them and paused. Two long-haired girls with big tits were making out in the kitchen. One was grabbing the other's ass. He watched intently for a few minutes, ignoring the raging boner he was getting. Dennis was taping them with his brother's video camera.

"Hey Dudley, what's up? Oi, Emily, get Big D that bottle over there—" Dennis said with a grin, turning away from the hot lesbians for a split second. Emily, the brunette from the party at Piers' house looked miffed but did as she was told.

"Nice, Dennis," said Dudley in approval when Emily handed him a quart of whiskey.

"Lifted it for you," the boy responded with a thumbs up. He went back to filming. "Okay, that's good, girls, wait—could you touch her boob again?"

"What are you _doing?" _Dudley asked, taking a drink.

"We're gonna sell this to sods at Stonewall, seeing as they're too poor to buy expensive porn."

Dudley snorted. "Whatever," he muttered, but settled against the refrigerator as the two girls continued to fondle each other.

Emily stood beside him, leaning on the marble countertop. She kept sighing and groaning disapprovingly to herself. It was very disconcerting to Dudley.

Instead of getting horny staring at the filming, he decided it would be less awkward to look away since Emily wasn't going anywhere. He turned toward her. "So, I'm guessing he chose you over Susan," he grunted deeply.

"Of course he did," the brunette snapped," she's not even half as pretty as me."

Dudley took a deep drink from the whiskey and gave her a pained expression. He lumbered out of the room before he could say anything that might offend her.

--

Dudley had to piss pretty badly, but all three of the bathrooms were occupied by people throwing up, so he had to stand and wait. There had all ready been a fist fight between Damien and Darian Rathrum, something about Veronica going between the two of them. _'So much for Indian girls,' _Dudley thought to himself amusedly,_' every girl's a slut now.' _

Also, Piers had called and asked why he wasn't invited, which was just depressing. Dennis had screamed into the phone and hung up on him.

Finally, the girl in the bathroom cleared out—she had sick all over her top; Dudley almost retched at the sight of her. But he pinched his nose to block out the smell and urinated, into the toilet this time.

As soon as Dudley emerged, his eyes fell upon Malcom and Melanie.

"Hey D," Malcom said," Sarah's here for you."

"She's back?" Dudley asked with a playful roll of the eyes.

But Malcom and Mel looked grave. "Dude, she seems really crazy, like she's on something," Malcom warned him. "She keeps yelling that she wants to see you—"

"I don't know what's wrong with her," Melanie offered. "She was weird all last week but I didn't know why, I couldn't get it out of her. She's in the living room—"

"Shit," Dudley said. "I must be in trouble." He smiled darkly, and trudged down the stairs. As soon as he turned the corner, he saw her and immediately, he knew what they were talking about.

Sarah looked cute, but tousled, and wasn't as done up as usual. When she spotted him, her eyes went wild. "DUDLEY!" she said in a shrill voice.

"Hey, Sarah," he responded, eyebrows cocked. "How was--? What's _wrong?" _At that moment, he realized that this wasn't something to joke about.

"Look, we need to _talk," _she burst out, hurrying forward. People were staring. "WE NEED TO TALK RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW!" she screamed.

"Whoa, shut _up," _he declared. "You don't need to yell—"

"DUDLEY, I'M GOING TO—" she paused and tottered—" TALK HOW EVER THE FUCK I WANT."

"Are you _wasted?" _he grinned. "Come on, we'll talk, just calm down." He held out his hand toward her.

She slapped it away. "I'm not DRUNK! I'M NOT DRUNK! YOU'RE DRUNK!" She pointed at the bottle he was still grasping.

"No I'm not," he argued. "Hardly."

"WE NEED TO TALK IN PRIVATE!" she screeched.

Everyone was staring and laughing at her. The two "lesbians" emerged from the kitchen, simpering as if Sarah were mad, one with her cleavage jutting forward.

"Sure thing," he said, trying to play off what she was saying. She_ had_ to be high, if she wasn't wasted. "Where?"

"Just come _on!" _she yelled, and snatched his hand.

"Sarah, calm the FUCK down!" he shouted back, angrily trying to match her tone. He didn't like the way she was talking to him. Whatever had her upset wasn't worth making him look like some weak asshole getting bossed by his girlfriend.

He stopped when they were in the back yard, but there was a group of people a foot away from them, and she dragged him forward.

"How private do you _need _it?" he asked loudly.

"DON'T ACT LIKE I'M A COW!" she said intently, her eyes aflame. "I'M NOT JUST SOME STUPID—"

"Whoa," he said again, _"Sarah, _what in the fucking hell is _wrong?"_

She drew in a shuddering breath and walked back and forth like she was pacing, wobbling in her heels.

"Wrong?" she asked spitefully. "YOU TELL ME. YOU'RE THE **EXPERT."**

Dudley stared at her stupidly. "Expert of _what?" _he snapped.

She gave a bitter, choking laugh, a sardonic, horrible guffaw. "Honestly, you act so _dumb."_

"I—Sarah, just honestly tell me what the deal is here, I don't like the way you're talking and I—"

"You what? Come on, _hit me_! Maybe then our problems will be solved if you slug me hard enough," she said indignantly. "Or y'know, ask your Mum how she did it—"

"**WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?"** Dudley shouted. His stomach was slowly becoming a twisted knot.

"_I haven't had my period,"_ she responded frantically.

"You haven't _what?" _

Sarah snorted meanly. "Oh my _God, _honest to _fuck—"_

"_WHAT?'_

"I HAVEN'T HAD MY PERIOD!" she shrieked. "I HAVEN'T HAD IT IN TWO WEEKS, I WAS SUPPOSED TO BUT IT NEVER CAME!"

Dudley blinked. "So what…?"

"Are you bloody kidding me?" she snapped.

"What? I— I don't know anything about _that—"_

Sarah stamped her foot on the ground. "Are you kidding me?" she said again. "You said," she breathed," _you said it would take five times!"_

"Five times…?" he trailed off.

"FIVE TIMES HAVING SEX IN A ROW TO GET SOMEONE PREGNANT!" she hollered.

Dudley stared down at her. His mouth dropped open. "No," he said quickly. "No, you _can't—"_

"You said that, Dudley Dursley, but I haven't had my period and that's—that's a way you tell," she sputtered, "I was sick on holiday—I thought it would come but it didn't and I was throwing up—"

"No," Dudley said again. It couldn't be true. "But we—we never had sex a lot of times in one day!" he exclaimed.

"MY MUM SAYS THAT'S A LIE! IT ONLY TAKES ONE TIME!" Sarah screamed at what could have been considered the top of her lungs.

"Your _Mum_'s the liar," Dudley declared, but now he wasn't so sure. But he had been so _certain. _After all, what did anything she just said have to do with being pregnant?

Sarah bristled—everything that had previously been cute about her was now scary; she was no longer a little slip of a girl, she was a force to be reckoned with. "_You _are the liar. You TOLD me—you PROMISED me and I LET you! She says that's a lie, she's not onto me but I asked her and she says it only takes one time--"Sarah spat, pointing at him accusingly. "You _lied _to me—"

"I didn't—I swear—I—that's what I _heard, _I _heard _that, I wasn't promising _anything—" _he said desperately. Everything seemed to be spinning.

"YOU PROMISED!" she screamed, tears starting to roll down her face.

"I didn't promise _anything," _he stated again, waving his hands around as though that was going to help. "I don't—I wouldn't have _ever—if—"_

"Oh don't be STUPID!" she snarled.

Dudley's eyes narrowed. Now _this _he had a definite comeback for. Hadn't Harry always told him so? Hadn't his grades, his enemies at school? The kids he taunted?

"MAYBE I **AM** STUPID!" he yelled back at her.

But Sarah gave him a surprising retort. "Don't try _that _shit—" she barked, never blinking. "You're not stupid, you're smart when you want something, really smart when you were trying to fuck me or get some weed out of me, my God, I _can't _believe it, I can't believe it—I LOVED YOU AND YOU DID THIS TO ME!" Her black mascara was gathering, drippy as ink, beneath her accusing eyes.

"THAT ISN'T FAIR! YOU NEVER TOLD ME TO STOP!" Dudley shot back.

"Oh, so this is all _my _fault?"

"You crazy _bitch!" _he said, regaining his ground. "You _bitch, how dare you try to pin this on me!"_

Her mouth fell open. "_What?"_

"Standing there like you didn't do a bloody thing, with your fucking slaggy skirts and your snogging me in the park and—_it was your idea in the first place!"_

"_AT LEAST I HAD __**CONDOMS!" **_Sarah screamed. "_But no, _you had to _convince me—bet you thought you were being so nice, licking me OUT so I'd let you fuck me WITHOUT ONE!"_

Dudley had no idea what to say. _She couldn't really be pregnant. She can't! It's impossible. _He was filling with all sorts of things—rage, horror, cluelessness. He looked at her, wordlessly. What she had just said was undeniably true.

"Well?" she exclaimed.

He noticed there were a ton of people in the windows staring out at them. A crowd was gathering.

"WELL?" she shrieked.

"Get away from me," he told her passively.

"DON'T YOU DARE—" Sarah yelled, coming forward, all five feet and three inches of her, her hair swaying. "DON'T YOU DARE ACT LIKE THIS IS NOTHING—"

"I said get _away," _Dudley snapped, and shoved her in the shoulder. She tumbled to the side, but kept her feet firm.

"Yeah? Is that _all _you've got tonight?" she fired at him.

"Sarah, stop it," he pleaded, and kept walking, right past her.

"DON'T WALK AWAY! YOU TELL ME—"

He continued toward the gate, she was running behind him madly.

"DUDLEY—YOU HAVE TO BE WITH ME WHEN I TAKE THE TEST—"

"I don't want to see you. Ever," he told her sharply. "Stay away from me." He opened the gate and kept walking down the street, dropping the bottle. His whole body was shaking violently. _'Test?' _he thought bitterly. _'What test, the right slut test? Think you passed THAT on your own.'_

"DON'T WALK AWAY—"

"_Fuck you,"_ he told her, and continued on.

Halfway down the avenue, she stopped and stood in the street. She was still screaming, but he couldn't make out her words. He just kept walking, his head pounding, his heart thumping, his mouth dry.

'_She can't be, that's rubbish, that's bloody rubbish, it took Mum and Dad forever, but she said her Mum said that was a lie, I don't know, in health they didn't say much but I swore I heard—fuck, I don't know what I heard, am I just totally stupid? She said I'm not stupid… when I want something, is that true? Do I—maybe I do the same thing to Mum. Dad? She can't be pregnant, what's that rubbish about her period, what the hell does that mean, why would she talk about it—she can't be pregnant, we only had it without a condom once in a while—I didn't only eat her out so she'd let me do her for real, well, sort of at first, but not the rest of the times, I didn't just want that, it wasn't be being smart? I'm NOT smart, I'm stupid, I'm not smart when I want something-- she CAN'T BE PREGNANT.'_

By the time Dudley reached Number Four, his shoulders were trembling; he was shuddering from head to toe. A glance told him Mum and Dad were out, for the car was gone. (However, as wound up as he was, he did not notice that the kitchen light was on in the house.)

He staggered up the front steps—Sarah's screams were still stinging his ears—he tried to breathe, but it was altogether too hard. As soon as he stepped inside the house, every emotion came rushing into him.

"She can't," he said at first, telling himself it was dumb to lose his head, if he got upset he was being an idiot. Screaming and shrieking and carrying on, well that was _Sarah's _way, and he wasn't some wussy wimp, he was Dudley Dursley, he was _Big D._

But it was too much. He slammed the door shut behind him so violently that five photographs fell off the opposite wall and shattered.

Dudley breathed in and out and shouted as loud as he could: "**THAT BITCH! THAT **_**CUNT!"**_

Perhaps at any other time, that would have made him feel better. He could have pummeled his punching bag, and cooled down, and might have been able to clearly think about what had happened. However, at that moment, it was very inopportune.

"Dudley?" asked his mother's sharp voice, as she turned the corner from where she'd been cleaning the kitchen. "_Dudley, what on earth, who—what's wrong—where did you learn—" _She stared at him in shock, finally she saw, she was terrified, upset, her pink apron so childlike.

Dudley's stomach dropped. He thought he was alone in the house. He thought they were out—his eyes widened, he was ready to defend himself, how he didn't know, but he was armed with all sorts of lies, he hadn't gotten out of worse than this but he'd sure gotten out of a lot, and if he could only lie—

He exhaled, trying to think of something to say. Mum was still staring at him, shocked.

And instead, for the first time in years, Dudley Dursley began to _cry_.

He started to sniffle and he felt his cheeks growing pink. He was more than humiliated, more than terrified, but this only made him cry harder. He pounded his fist back onto the door and gripped the door handle, leaning backward, his hat to the side, his blonde disheveled bangs hanging over his eye. With each trembling sob, his face grew pinker and it was times like this that he wished he was very small.

"Honey, what on _earth?" _Petunia whispered. _"Duddy, what's wrong?" _She walked forward, but with a caution she'd never used before and put her hands on his shoulders. _"What—"_

"_Mum," _he whimpered croakily, tears pouring down his face and wetting his t-shirt. "_Mum, I—" _he swallowed hard, and burst into another bought of sobs.

Wordlessly, Petunia marched like a soldier and got him a glass of water. He tried to drink it but couldn't. She soothingly stroked his bangs, but then got to close to his face than he would have liked.

"Dudley Dursley," she said suddenly, "have you been _drinking?"_

"Only a _little," _he balled.

"_What?" _she demanded. "_With who? Where?"_

"At—" he took a deep breath—" everywhere."

"_What?"_

"Tonight Dennis had a party—I only had a little this time, I _swear—"_

"_THIS TIME?" _Petunia demanded, confused.

"Mum, please, please, Mum, don't be mad," he begged.

"Dudley, I don't understand—"

"_Mum—" _he choked.

She handed him the water again and he managed to drink some down.

"_Mum—" _he began again. His voice was very small. _"I've been doing really bad things,"_ he said, and then gave a choking sob.

"Dudley, I don't understand," she said plainly," what do you mean, bad things? How much did you drink? What _sort _of party? Were there _girls?"_

Dudley wiped his eyes and tried to become calm. His cover was blown. He'd never disappointed her before.

He stared into Mum's face, how concerned she looked, how confused, and he broke down _again. _

"_God, Mum," _he said through tears,_" don't you even know anything? Don't you notice anything?"_

"What!?"

"Of course there were," he declared," of course there were girls… What would be the---" he gave a bursting gasp of breath—"_point?_"

"Honey, you need to sit down, I think you need to sit, you aren't making sense—" Petunia said shrilly, every feature she had twisted in worry.

He allowed her to lead him to the parlour, where she sat him in Dad's armchair. She hurried and got him some tissues and he blew his nose. He kept drawing in long, shuddering breaths.

"Now…" Petunia crossed her legs and cleared her throat, as though she had no clue as to where she should begin. "Tell me…tell me…" She bit down on her lip and hugged her arms around herself. "What—what is _going _on?" she stammered.

Dudley tried hard to pull himself together. _'Just tell her you made it up—no… too late? Yeah, it's too late for that. Don't say anything about Sarah—make something up—' _He took another drink of water and stared at the floor.

"_Dudley?" _Mum asked despairingly. "What's the _matter?"_

"Mum, you don't—" he paused to take another sip of water. "I do—I've been doing—I've always—" he stopped stuttering and inhaled. "I've always been like this," he managed to say, and gave a silent sob. He couldn't even bear to look his mother in the eye.

"What?" she exclaimed. "No you haven't! I mean—what--? Dudley, I don't understand—and who—_what _were you speaking about before when you…—"

"My girlfriend pissed me off," he said abruptly.

"Your—your girlfriend? Since when do you have a girlfriend?" Petunia seemed to be on the verge of tears now.

"I don't know," he said forcibly. "Like two months."

"You didn't _tell _me," Mum stated, looking as though he had slapped her across the face. "What's her name?"

"Sarah."

"Her _last _name?"

"I dunno."

"_What do you mean?"_

Dudley wasn't about to tell Mum her last name. He knew the wheels were turning in Mum's head; she was trying to remember if she'd ever heard gossip about a Sarah before. "I guess—I just didn't find out!"

"Well, what is she _like?"_

"_I DON'T KNOW, MUM!" _Dudley yelled, pounding the water glass on the armrest. Some water sloshed over the top.

Petunia winced. "Well, then—" she paused. "Did you call her… call her _that _word?"

Dudley wiped his nose. "What one?"

Petunia sighed into her hands, unable to say it. "The—the--…"

"Oh," Dudley said, eyes widening. "_Yeah."_

"Who taught you that word?"

"Dunno. School, friends, movies," he shrugged.

"You _drink?" _she pressed.

"Sometimes," he said warily," Mum, you can't be mad—"

"I'm just _confused," _Petunia said, but it was clear she was becoming more and more upset. "You have a girlfriend," she repeated. It was as though she couldn't put the puzzle pieces together quite right. "Tell me about it," she said, trying to be inviting. "Just—tell me what _happened."_

"Mum, there's nothing—"

"Well, _what _do you drink?" Petunia asked, suddenly snappish again, snappish and appalled.

"I don't know—" he said quietly. "Whiskey, sometimes other—"

Petunia began to cry silently into her hands. "Are you drunk now?" she wanted to know, so innocently, so quietly.

"Just a little," Dudley whispered. "Not much."

Petunia kept crying, and finally had to cover her face.

"_Mum_," Dudley said sadly. "Mum, _stop—"_

"Maybe," she sniffled," you should go to bed right now? We can talk in the morning—your father can—" she cried harder.

"Mum—" he whimpered.

"Go to bed _now," _she hissed.

Dudley was shocked. Petunia hadn't ever spoken to him in this fashion—the last time he'd gotten reprimanded like this was by either teachers (who hadn't yet known the wrath of his parents) and neighbors like old Mrs. Figg, the crazy woman who used to tend Harry. But his _Mum? _

However, he was unable to move. He stared at his lap and kept sobbing chokingly, while Mum sat on the sofa, crying without tears.

Now he'd told her the basic idea of things, and for _what? _He had definitely screwed himself over, that he knew, because now that Petunia was onto the partying, she'd work the whole story together. It wouldn't be too hard—all she'd have to do was wait for the rumors to start—Dudley was certain tomorrow's news was going to be all about he and Sarah. She could just call _Piers _and ask about it, too—now that Piers had been dissed by the group Dudley wouldn't blame him if he ratted them all out. _'But would he!?' _And what of the other boys? What if Petunia told all their parents?

"I still don't quite understand," she said clearly, sitting up straighter. "Dudley, you're such a _good _boy, a _nice _boy! Are you _unhappy?"_

"What?" Dudley muttered, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Petunia was shaking her head back and forth, back and forth. "I feel like a _failure—"_

"Mum—"

"Using foul _language?" _she asked sadly. "A _party _with _girls—drinking!!?" _

"**Mum!"**

Petunia stared at him intently. "Who _are _you?"

At this, Dudley stood up, the chair creaking as his bulk lifted off of it. Keeping a firm grip on his water glass, he tried very hard to keep his cool. "Where have you _been _all this time, Mum?"

"I don't---" Petunia sputtered. "I don't know what you mean! Dudley, I've been here for you _forever_—"

"NO MUM!" he shouted. "YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT IT!"

"Dudley! Don't be angry with _me! We can sort it out! _Just tell me _why _you're so upset—I'll understand!"

'_That I might've knocked some slag UP?' _Dudley thought. _'Yeah, I BET you'd understand!'_

"Dudley! _Dudley, _answer me!" Petunia begged, jumping up as well, and clutching his arm piteously.

"Mum, you _won't _get it—just leave me alone!" Dudley snapped.

She backed off, but confusedly. "_Dudley—_Dudley Dursley, you---you're—"

Dudley shook his head. "Honestly, can't even give me a proper ORDER!" With that, he pounded up the stairs and into his room. Petunia was at his heels, still asking questions, but he beat her and locked his door.

He sat at the edge of his bed until finally, she gave up and went away. After he was sure she'd gone, he sat in the cool dark, spread across his bed with his head underneath the pillow.

'_If she was a normal Mum I'd be in a shit load of trouble,' _he thought_, 'wonder if she'll tell Dad. If he hears I was crying I'll be fixed for sure. Crying is for fucking wusses and girls.'_ He turned to his side and ran his hand through his bangs, throwing his hat on the floor. _'I wonder if Sarah went home. She better not fucking tell her Mum. Or anyone, but good luck with THAT. I bet she called Melanie. If someone tells Mum I will KILL THEM. God damn it, what am I supposed to DO? Maybe it's not for real, but does that happen even? If she has a baby—oh shit, a BABY—what am I supposed to do? I don't want to marry her! I'm fifteen! How could she do this to me?'_

He could hear his mother pacing in her heels downstairs.

"Dudley!" she kept calling every once in a while. "_Dudley!"_

He ignored her.

Then, she said something else: "Yes hello?"

Dudley went still—she was on the phone. He crawled over the edge of his bed and dangled over the side to become closer to the heating grate in the floor. If one listened hard enough, one could hear all sorts of conversations that went on downstairs. Dudley had figured this out at an early age, and had used it to his advantage ever since.

He listened:

"Hello, yes, I'm sorry it's late, Piers, this is Mrs. Dursley."

Dudley's body went slack, as a twinge of fear moved through his system. It was what he'd been afraid of. _'But Piers won't know about Sarah and tonight!' _he thought. However, it was hardly a constellation prize that Piers knew about weed, drinking, and the fact that Dudley had had sex.

"Yes, Piers, I'm fine, how are you? Yes, I'm _sure _everything is—" Petunia sighed deeply and sounded on the verge of tears again. "_No, _everything really _isn't _all right, is your mother there, Piers?" There was a pause. "In London? Oh, yes, of course, I understand," she said tersely.

Petunia was always very bitter about the fact that Mrs. Polkiss had divorced Piers' father and taken up a career.

Another long pause. "Yes, Piers, he's here—no, it's not all right, yes, he's here—he's fine—well… Piers?" Petunia asked desperately.

'_Here it comes.'_

Petunia sighed. "Whenever you're in trouble, what does your mother do to you as punishment?"

Dudley raised his head up. _'Huh?'_

"I mean, does she discipline you?" Petunia continued. "How?"

'_She's asking Piers how to punish me!?'_

Petunia sighed again. "It doesn't _matter _what he's done—oh? It depends on the severity, you say? Well, it's rather severe—I don't—" she gave a little wail. "_Yes,_ everything is fine! She… takes away privileges? Well, what sort? No going out, no television, no phone?" she repeated, as though this were very difficult for her. "I suppose I'll have to do that, then."

'_I'm being __**grounded**__?' _Dudley thought wildly. It was something he'd only heard about. The closest he'd been to being grounded was the summer before his first year at Smeltings, when the family had to drive around to random hotels because Harry was being followed by letters and birds. Dudley hadn't been able to watch television for almost a _week_, and they hadn't even had anything good to eat.

"No, Piers," Petunia was saying," you can't speak to Dudley—not when I'm supposed to be banning him from the phone! _Goodnight!"_

Any other time, that would have been slightly amusing. But at the moment, Dudley could do nothing but lie there, dragging his palm across his bedroom floor. He heard Mum coming up the stairs again and she paused in front of his door.

"Dudley," she said almost inaudibly. "Your father won't be back from the office until later, and so this might be temporary." She cleared her throat. "I don't understand why you're doing—what you did, but for now, you are not allowed to go to the park, watch television or make any phone calls."

He said nothing.

"Dudley?"

"I _heard _you," he snapped. "Good, fine, _I don't really care."_

"It's temporary!" she responded painfully. "I don't _want _to do it— If you could just—"

"Go _away, _Mum," he commanded darkly.

--

He couldn't sleep at all. Every thought he had went back to Sarah. He tried to look at a magazine. He tried to listen to music. But every single thing reminded him of her, of her being _pregnant. _He didn't want it to be his fault, but he _was _the one who suggested that they lose the condom. But he wasn't trying to trick her or anything, he just felt better that way. And what about Mary-Anne Johns? When she'd had sex with him, _she _hadn't gotten pregnant!

'_Yeah, but you only fucked her once,' _he recalled and then paused. _'But… Sarah said it only takes one time. I swear that's a lie. She's lying because she loves me.'_

If only it were as easy as that.

Around ten PM, Dad came home, and Petunia must have been waiting for him because Dudley could hear them whispering through the grate. However, he couldn't make out many words.

But Dad kept saying "What?" and "Dudders?"

Dudley was afraid to go to sleep, because when he woke up, he knew there would be a scheduled Dursley Family Meeting.

'_At least I'm banned from the phone so I won't have to talk to Sarah,' _he thought exhaustedly. He was terrified of checking his email. If Sarah called, would she tell Petunia?

Dudley would pretend she was mental, that was all.

And if his mates called, he'd ignore them, too. After all, what had they ever done for him?

He decided that being a recluse was a very good aspiration. Maybe if he pretended he didn't exist, Sarah would drop the matter. Forget about him.

Because he surely wanted to forget about _her_.

* * *


	11. Mad World

**

* * *

**

Chapter Eleven: Mad World

* * *

"**No!"** Dudley said abruptly, and sat up. He looked around. It seemed he had finally fallen asleep, but he couldn't tell how long it had been. The room was sweltering and his bangs were stuck to his forehead. He glanced at his digital watch: It was eight in the morning. He knew there was something he didn't want to remember, so of course, at that moment, it hit him full force.

_Sarah._

He slid off his bed and kicked off his clinging jeans; being only in boxers made it a little more pleasant. Curiosity getting the best of him, he creaked over to his desk and logged onto his computer, heart all ready racing. He figured he'd better get this out of the way before Mum and Dad unleashed their overdue parental wrath.

He had four new messages: one from Dennis (_Hungpartyboy), _another from Melanie (_ShagSlag), _one from Piers (_TrueGangsta)_ and yes, one from Sarah (_BabyGurlxo). _He sighed aloud and clicked Sarah's, the one with the headline that said _Where do you get OFF!_.

_Dudley,_

_How dare u walk away from me last nite—this is your problem to! What am I supposed to do about it. U better rite back—u fuckin liar, u said u loved me just last week, u really need to sort out your problems, how dare u. if I'm pregant u know this is your fault—u better write me back if u not man enough to talk in person!_

_SARAH_

Dudley stared at her message fearfully and read it at least eight times before deleting it. He had no idea what to do! Why would she even _ask _him!? What _was _she supposed to do?

He certainly couldn't ask _Mum. _

He tried to push it out of his mind, and clicked on Piers' email: _Dude, what's wrong?_

_Big D!_

_Your mum was all in a fit last night. What happened? She wouldn't tell me—not that I would have wanted to know from her. What's wrong. She knows about the gang, doesn't she? Didn't Dennis cover for you and say it was tea?_

_WRITE BACK!_

_Piers_

Dudley took a deep breath.

_Hey. Yeah, she was trippin out. she knows certin things, I dunno, I tried to throw her but she was onto me. I'll try today to lie again tho. She hasn't talked to Dennis or anybody. Don't tell nobody, Piers, or I'll fuck you over._

_Dudley_

He hit send, and opened Mel's (_Tell me!_) :

_Dudley—What was the deal wit' Sarah? She is upset. She won't talk to me. What did you do to her? Make it better, she's so sad. She won't pick up her phone._

_Luv Mel_

"Ah, shut up," Dudley groaned, and deleted it immediately.

Subject: _D, WHAT IS UP? _

_Hey, big dude, what the hell happened at my house last nite? Someone said they heard Sarah screaming about being pregs? Is that true?_

_Too bad you left. You would've won our chugging contest. _

_Melanie broke it off with Malcom before they even KISSED. Haha, you have to rub it in his face._

_-Dennis_

_Hey,_ Dudley wrote back. _No that is a fuckin lie. Pound whoever said that okay. She was just being a stupid bitch and if she says lies like that you shouldn't fuckin believe her. _

_Dudley_

Another message popped onscreen.

_Big D! _

_I figured something terrible happened. Don't worry; I wouldn't sell you out. _

_It'll blow over. Don't think about it._

_Piers_

Dudley pounded his fist on his desk. If only he had the gumption to tell them.

Looking around as though Mum was going to pop through his locked door, Dudley got onto a well-known search engine that he used at Smeltings to type in choice phrases and cheat on his English reports, and stared at the blankness of it. His fingertips dwindled over the keyboard before he finally typed one word: _pregant._

_Did you mean "PREGNANT"? _inquired the search engine.

"Fuck you," Dudley snarled, and clicked the correctly spelled link.

The first ten sites that popped up all had to do with advice for "expectant mummies", as well as really weird sites with photographs of pregnant women posing with their other kids as though the world gave a shit about it.

However, he scrolled down further and found one titled _Teens: Unsure of a Pregnancy? Use Our Checklist to Determine What Your Chances Are. _Dudley nervously clicked it.

'Did you take part in intercourse?' prompted the site. _Yes_, Dudley selected.

'Were you using protection? (Condom, birth control?…Word to the wise: Even during oral sex it is best to use protection, and don't forget female condoms!)'

'_What in the frick is a female condom?' _he thought, and clicked _No._

'Have you been experiencing one or more of the following signs: Irritability, Delayed or Change in Period, vomiting…'

Dudley stared at the screen. _'Sarah said she threw up, and… didn't have a period. And she's been a wench. Maybe that's like irritability.' _He pulled on the collar of his shirt, afraid to go any further. Finally, he selected _Yes._

The page began to load.

**Your risk factor is HIGH. Schedule a check-up with your doctor as soon as possible to find out for certain. **

"Fuck," Dudley said quietly.

--

After taking the longest shower he'd had in his life, making sure he spent more time than necessary on his hair, and shaving, Dudley walked slowly downstairs. Mum and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table with coffee cups in front of them. Dad was not reading the paper. This was a very bad sign.

Dudley stepped off the bottom step and it creaked under his weight. Both of his parents turned and stared at him as though he was acting unnaturally.

He paused and stared back at them, then continued into the kitchen.

Mum looked worried and Dad looked confused. They kept staring at him until he said throatily: "Morning."

Then they looked away.

Dudley stood still. He wished he had never come downstairs.

"Son," Vernon began, looking back up at him and running his fingers through his black mustache. "Your mother informed me that you two had ah—a conversation last night."

"Yes," stated Dudley dully. He was going to be as brief as possible. Unlike yesterday, he was going to _stay calm. _

Vernon paused in touching his facial hair and looked _almost _stern. "Would you mind telling me what it was all about?"

Petunia stared at her hands.

"I think Mum all ready told you," Dudley replied.

"Look, your Mother talked to me the best she could!" Vernon declared, raising his voice. "But she was upset and I want to hear what you have to say on the matter! So do us a favor, Dudley, and tell me what exactly is going on!"

"Vernon, _please," _Petunia whispered, shaking her head.

"'sokay, Mum," said Dudley almost softly, and turned to his dad. "I don't know—I guess I've been… doing some shi—"

--Both adults raised their eyebrows—

--"_Stuff _that wasn't… good," Dudley said lamely. Despite trying so hard to keep his cool, he could feel hot sweat all ready forming at the back of his neck.

"I _suppose _not!" Vernon exclaimed, clearly on his way to being mortified. "Would you _mind _explaining? We can sort this out, son—"

Dudley shrugged. "I—uh—well, I don't know."

"You don't _know?"_

"Vernon!"

"Petunia! I'm simply trying to crack this matter! Obviously, there's something wrong and we need to fix it!" Vernon declared. He was unable to hold back any longer. "Mum says you've been drinking, Dudley. At parties?"

"Er…" Dudley looked down at Mum, who was gripping her coffee cup and closing her eyes. He felt as though he were on display, and should give a great, rallying speech. He'd have to disappoint. "Yeah," he nodded slowly.

"With your mates then?" Vernon prodded, much more calmly than Dudley was expecting.

"Er… yes."

Vernon's voice lowered considerably: "A bit of fun, then?"

Dudley's eyes widened and then went back to normal. "Yes?"

Petunia looked up, also surprised.

"When did it start, son?"

Dudley shrugged again. "This year, 'cause like, some upperclassmen on my boxing team did it, so we'd… er… have some fun after matches when we'd win."

Vernon looked at Petunia brightly. "I told you! It's not really anything to worry about, Petunia—nothing dangerous, bit of a tradition, was it, Dudley?"

"Uh… Yeah!" Dudley put in hopefully. _'Dad understands!?'_

Petunia pursed her lips. "I don't like the idea of it." She made a sad face at Dudley. "You're not an _alcoholic_, are you, honey?"

Both Dudley and Vernon snorted at the same time.

"Nah, Mum," Dudley said, shaking his head.

"A bit of social drinking never hurt a bloke, Pet!" Vernon said, almost cheerfully. "Boys _will _be boys, and the boxing team's a rough crowd. Got to fit like a nail sometimes!"

"Yeah!" Dudley nodded. "Yeah, they _told _me to drink, y'know? Of course, it was never really a lot. I mean…"

"Just social drinking!" repeated Vernon.

Petunia look unconvinced. "But if it's only social drinking, then why carry on with it now?"

"Just a bit of fun with the mates, is all," Vernon explained. "There weren't any girls at that party, were there, son?"

Again, Dudley froze. "Yeah," he said.

Petunia nodded worriedly. "See, Vernon? This is what I was most worried about."

Vernon's expression had become a bit sterner again. "But Dudders is responsible. Right, son?"

"…Yeah," Dudley said bleakly.

"Everyone was fully clothed?"

"Yeah," Dudley repeated. _'Last night, yeah, pretty much. So, it's not a lie.'_

"Tell your father about Sarah!" piped in Petunia urgently.

"Yes, Mum tells me you have a girlfriend."

Dudley stared at both of them. "What do you want to know?" he asked bluntly.

"Just trying to sort it all out, Dud," Vernon said. "Was she at this gathering last night?"

"Sort of," Dudley put in.

Vernon made a face, but decided against questioning the open-ended statement any further. "Well, calm us down, son. This Sarah, she… uh…" Now _Vernon _was trailing off.

Dudley waited, his ears all ready beginning to redden.

"Er… what I mean to say is…" Vernon fiddled with his moustache again and Petunia wrung her hands. "Remember what you and I spoke about… eh… before you went into third year, about?"

Dudley nodded, but he wished he didn't. When he was thirteen, Vernon had delivered a most flustered "Man-to-Man" chat. In this chat, Vernon had briefly spoken of certain things, such as deodorant, abstinence and what were only referred to as "those urges". At the time, thirteen-year old Dudley had been completely puzzled. Harry had made fun of him for weeks afterward.

"Well, you and this Sarah person," Vernon said gruffly," you've been sensible?"

"Sorry, what?" Dudley asked. He wanted to make sure he lied really well about this one.

"You haven't…" Vernon looked at Petunia and then said: "You haven't given into any of… _those urges, _have you?"

Dudley knew that was coming, but all the same, he blushed bright pink.

Petunia made a strange little noise; she was looking at the table again.

"No, Dad!" Dudley exclaimed, trying to screw up his face like in the old days when he didn't want to do something. "I haven't—of course not—" By raising his tone of voice and sounding whiny, he _always _managed to throw them off.

Petunia let out a sigh. "We don't need to worry, then?"

"Nah, Mum, course not," Dudley said. "Besides," he began boldly," I broke up with her because she was getting too serious." He gave a sharp nod to convince himself of this terribly twisted lie. He imagined Sarah's face reacting to it, and felt bad, but only for two or three seconds.

"That's my boy! See, Petunia?" Vernon immediately grabbed the newspaper, apparently satisfied.

"Well," warbled Petunia. "Just promise me you'll kick that drinking habit, Duddy. I _don't _want to worry like this _ever _again. And keep your language _clean."_

"Yeah, Mum, sure," he said positively. "Don't _worry _about it."

"But… according to Mrs. Polkiss, who actually was _home _today, you still have to be punished for a little more time. No seeing your mates for awhile, all right, honey? Take some time to cool down?"

"Yeah, fine," Dudley nodded, walking toward the stove and making a face at the oatmeal that was waiting for him in the pan. He didn't care at this point if he saw anyone again. Especially now that his parents were sorted out.

"Oh, Dudley," Petunia said, and stood up, wrapping her arms around him. "How responsible of my _Duddy _to break it off with that _girl," _she said, spitting out the last word disdainfully. "I love you _ever _so much and I never want you to scare me like that _again!'_

"'kay," Dudley grunted, but patted her shoulder. "Love you, too. But ah…" He tried to be casual. "You didn't tell Piers' mum about it, did you?"

Petunia's eyes got bigger. "Why, _no. _Of course not." She massaged Dudley's arm and walked in front of him to serve his breakfast. "We wouldn't want the neighbors talking," she said.

Dudley bit his lip. _'Always the neighbors,' _he thought bitterly. It sure hadn't taken a lot to convince Mum and Dad of his innocence. He was a little disappointed.

* * *

AN: It was my birthday this week! So since you got this far, you should leave a review and tell me what you think! The power of Dudley compels you!


	12. The Downward Spiral

**AN: **Hey! Thanksss, amigos, for the reviews and such! More? Also, if you're interested in reading an uncut/ NC17 sex scene from this fic (Dudley/Sarah from Chapter Five), just let me know and I'll send you a link. (Yes, I am pervy and proud.) Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Twelve: The Downward Spiral

* * *

Two days had passed, and Dudley had been happy to stay protected inside Number Four. He'd gotten emails from his mates, all asking where he'd gotten to, but he ignored them. It was somewhat peaceful not talking to anyone. 

He was browsing the internet when a message popped up:

_Are u online?_

Dudley clicked out of the nude pictures of some model he was gawking at and opened the instant message.

It was Sarah.

He stared at it.

_I know u are. _she typed.

He rolled his eyes and began to type back: _**Sorry I was away for a sec.**_

_Yeah right. U don't need to keep lying. U never answered my email._

_**I didn't get it.**_

_Mine said you read it._

Dudley didn't reply. He decided that he hated technology utterly and completely.

_DUDLEY. ANSWER ME._

_**WHAT? **_he wrote back, banging heavily on the keys.

_I'm taking a pregnancy test 2morrow. I'm going to London on the bus._

_**That's great.**_

_I want you to come with me._

Dudley leaned in his chair and ran his hands through the shorn hair on the back of his neck. He didn't want to go with her in the least, but even more than that, he was banned from the house! _Banned from the house!_ His insides felt less twisted. Being grounded had saved his life!

_**Can't, **_he typed. _**I'm grounded I can't leave. **_

_No u aren't._

_**YES I AM. GOD. I'm not lying.**_

_You know what? If u can't man up enuf to want to go with me I don't even care about u. _

_**I AM A MAN. I JUST CAN'T GO. I'M GROUNDED.**_

_Then fine. I hate you._

_**Good:)**_

There was a long pause, and then:

_Dudley! COME ON! U HAVE to come! What if I am? _

_**I dunno! WTF do you think I KNOW about it**_

_Well, Mum would be mad if I killed it._

Dudley shifted uncomfortably. _**Killed it?**_

_Got an abortion._

_**What?**_

_Oh my God u are so stupid._

_**I'm not trying to be! **_he wrote back furiously, his eyebrows scrunched. _**I really mean it! **_

_If u aren't stupid, then come with me._

_**Get stuffed I all ready told you I can't, **_Dudley responded and pressed Enter.

Sarah signed off.

"Good!" Dudley said out loud. "You stupid little slag! _Good for you." _Except he didn't feel so confident anymore. Even when Sarah was in this very vulnerable situation, she had completely turned the tables on him, and he didn't like it in the least.

**--**

Around four in the afternoon, the doorbell rang. Interested, Dudley dropped the dumbbell he was holding and listened.

He heard Mum opening the lock. "Why, hello, Piers!" she greeted.

'_Piers?' _thought Dudley. It had been nearly four days since he'd seen any of his mates. It was almost like solitary confinement.

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," came Piers' slightly high, whining voice. "How are you today?"

"I'm fine, thank you. And you?"

"Just great," said Piers charmingly, and Dudley had to grin. If there was one thing Piers rocked at, it was sucking up to the parents. "Is Dudley around?"

"Well, yes, of course, er—but he's still grounded," Mum put in.

"Oh." There was a pause. "Well, you know, when _I'm _grounded, Mum always lets visitors come over. _I _can't leave, but they can come see _me."_

"Are you certain?"

"Of _course, _Mrs. Dursley. I wouldn't lie to you! Could I please pay Dudley a visit?"

Petunia sighed. "All right, then, Piers. It would probably be good for him. I'm sure he's missed you boys _ever _so much."

"_Great, _Mrs. Dursley. _Thank you," _Pierce said energetically, and Dudley heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. There was a knock on the door and Dudley unlocked it and opened it.

Piers simpered. "Oi, Big D."

"Cheek," Dudley said blandly with a grin as Piers ducked underneath his arm. Dudley locked the door behind him. "Lyin' to Mum." He shook his head. "Imagine."

"Oh you know you're _so_ glad I came to rescue you from—" Piers looked around at the strewn out rap albums, computer games and music magazines. "Actually, this can't be very bad."

"It's not," Dudley replied, heading over to his bed and sitting spread-legged on it. Piers sat down in his computer chair. "Just, you know… no fags, no whiskey."

"Ouch," Piers responded. "So, whatchu in trouble for? You never really told me."

Dudley threw a glance at the door.

"Don't worry, mate. Your mum is cleaning the kitchen with like, twelve mops. I don't think she's gonna come upstairs any time soon."

"Right, thanks," Dudley said gruffly, but his ears turned pink as he tried to decide how to edit the story if why he was grounded. He wanted to tell Piers everything, but he also knew that Piers had the habit of passing things on, no matter how important they were. "Well… uh."

"If you _want _to talk about it, that it," said Piers a little strangely.

"Naw, it's cool." Dudley stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I came home from the party and…" He paused.

Piers leaned a little closer. "_And?"_

"Mum smelt alcohol on me."

"Shit!" Piers burst out excitedly. "Oh, sorry!" he squeaked when Dudley narrowed his eyes at him. "But… dude, what _happened?" _He lowered his voice even more: "Were you _drunk?"_

"Not by much," Dudley shrugged," Thank God. Or else I totally would've been fixed."

"Totally," Piers sighed. "So what did you _do?"_

"Dunno… Just explained to her, y'know."

"About drinking?"

"Sorta."

"Smoking?"

"Naw."

"Sarah?"

"Yeah, but naw."

Piers straightened up against the chair. "What do they know?"

"They think I binned Sarah. They don't know shit about her. I didn't even say her last name."

"Dude," Piers said quietly. "So what are you gonna do when Sarah wants to hang out with you again? 'Cause if she finds out you said you broke up with her, then…" He trailed off. "Don't think she'd like that."

"Yeah, well, _fuck_ her!" Dudley declared. "I don't want to see her anymore anyway."

Piers' facial expression made an obvious switch, but Dudley wasn't sure why. Was Piers _glad _he didn't want to see Sarah? Did _Piers_ want to get with her now? Dudley figured it would be just _like _Piers to want his seconds.

Dudley looked at Piers confusedly. "What?"

Piers frowned again. "What do you mean, what?"

"Dude, are you _happy?"_

"Happy about what?" Piers demanded, blanching considerably.

Dudley rolled his eyes. "Just say it."

"Say _what?"_

"You want Sarah still!" Dudley shot back. "Just say it!"

Piers drew in a deep breath and smiled. "Oh." He leaned back and was once again calm. "No, that's not it. I don't want her--- anymore, don't worry."

"I won't _worry," _Dudley replied tersely. "If you want to get with her, whatever, but just know she is a crazy motherfucking bitch, and I warned you." _'But if you DO wanna get with her, I can't promise I won't get pissed.'_

"Point noted," Piers said dryly.

This conversation was slightly off, and Dudley didn't know why, so he switched topics.

"What the hell happened with Mel anyway?" he asked.

"I dunno," Piers responded. "I guess I didn't like her all that much."

Dudley laughed. "_No one _likes her! She's stupid."

"I guess…"

"She's not even that hot. How was she, ya know, fuck-wise?"

Piers ran his hand over the arm of Dudley's computer chair. "I dunno."

"Come _on, _man!" Dudley urged. He needed some sort of tidbit to get his mind of Sarah. He wondered if she was getting tested right at that moment.

"I said… I don't know," Piers said quietly. "It was quick. She was sort of drunk, like I said."

"But how _was _she?"

"Dudley," Piers said loudly," I don't _know! _I couldn't get into it!"

"Don't get pissed, shit!" Dudley exclaimed. "What's the _deal?"_

"I just _don't know _– and I didn't really like it!"

"You said it was great before, so I just—"

"It _wasn't!" _Piers was wide-eyed now, and looking as frantic as he sounded.

Dudley stared. "Ohh," he said quietly. "You mean you…" he cleared his throat. "You couldn't get it up?"

"_No!" _Piers whispered. "No, that wasn't it. I just… I couldn't get it… er… I couldn't do it thinking of _her."_

"That's all?" Dudley asked. "Why are you trippin' out? Damn. She's not even that cute. It doesn't surprise me."

"I…" Piers immediately stopped talking and shrugged. "Yeah. I guess not."

"Anyway," Dudley went on, deciding this Melanie business was unimportant," you could've told Mum everything the other night."

Piers looked lost, and then relieved. "Huh—oh— what? When?"

"Ya know. She talked to you about groundin' me."

"Oh yeah, _about that, _sorry, really sorry—I didn't know she was going to actually do it!"

Dudley shrugged. "Hey. It's all good, I mean… We kinda…" He shrugged again, feeling very uncomfortable. He hated apologizing. "We kinda ditched you last week."

"Yeah," Piers said softly. "It wasn't you though, it was them."

"I guess. But still, you could've told Mum all the shit I've done and you played stupid," Dudley explained, looking at the wooden floor.

Piers shrugged back. "I wouldn't sell you out so easily, Dudley. You've been my best mate since nursery school."

"Don't get soft," Dudley grinned.

"Right," Piers said abruptly. "So, what do the blokes say about you?"

"Dunno. I don't feel like talkin' to 'em. Figure it's gonna be harder, I mean, Dad don't care so much about the drinking but he thinks it's not serious."

"Heh," Piers chortled. "Don't know their son is the king of knockin' back a fifth?"

"I guess I don't miss the headaches."

"You're going to give it all up?"

Dudley shrugged. "Dunno. Just doesn't seem important. I mean…" He trailed off and sighed. "Who the _fuck _am I?"

"Dunno, you're Big D," Piers said.

"Yeah, well, what the _fuck _does that mean?"

Piers was silent for awhile before he said: "There's something else, isn't there? Something else is wrong."

"No!" insisted Dudley.

Piers stared at him through his large brown eyes. "You sure?"

"Fuck yes, I'm sure," Dudley spat. "Everything's just shitty, that's all. I mean, it's what, gonna be Year Eleven? And we're…"

"Still on Privet Drive?" Piers asked and Dudley nodded. "Yeah, I know. "I've thought it, too. Except I just wish it could be like the old times. You know? Tea? _Real _tea?"

"Yeah," Dudley nodded.

"Your mum used to make the best cookies."

"Yeah, I know. Wish she still did." Dudley looked up at Piers, who was now standing with his back to him and scanning his bookshelf, letting one slender palm touch each book. "Even _your _mum used to be at home."

"Not anymore," Piers replied. He laughed suddenly. "Remember Harry Hunting?"

Dudley nodded with a smile. "That stupid game we made up?"

"It wasn't stupid; it was awesome. Remember when Harry hid under the shelves in the pantry and your mum thought he ran away? She was _freaked._"

"I guess I forgot about that," Dudley said, his smile fading. "He was always pretty good at hiding." He could still hear Mum's voice ringing in his ears; screaming at Harry for giving her a fright, and _did he think it was funny? _Harry had cried and tried to explain, he was _hiding, _he hadn't run away, he was hiding! But Mum wouldn't buy that Dudley was part of it.

"I just wish we were back then," Piers said dryly, making Dudley snap abruptly out of his thoughts. "I mean, now there's all these problems."

"Yeah," Dudley answered," but I really wouldn't fancy going back. It sucked."

"You think so?"

Dudley nodded, as though Piers could see him. "It wasn't all that good, I guess."

"It seemed good at the time—"

"It just _wasn't," _Dudley said firmly.

Piers was still standing facing the bookshelf, but his shoulders were tensing up. "You mean you were unhappy all that time? Faking?"

"Well… no," said Dudley stiffly. "I mean, yeah. But I didn't know it."

"Dudley, that's sad."

"I don't mean it to be _sad!" _Dudley said adamantly. "I'M JUST TELLING THE TRUTH!"

"I _know_." Piers kept running his hand along the bookshelf for a few minutes. The silence was so thick it could have been cracked open with a hammer. "Hey," Piers said suddenly.

"Hey what?"

"I have… something I have to talk to you about."

Dudley grimaced. This didn't sound promising. "Fine. Go ahead," he shrugged, and leaned back onto his elbows.

"It's something—er s-something… About M-Melanie. And s-s-stuff you guys say s-sometimes—"Piers stuttered horribly, never taking his eyes away from the bookshelf. "You're—you're not—I totally s-shouldn't say—"

Dudley made a face. "What the _fuck, _man? Just get out with it!"

Piers sighed. "Look, D-Dudley. There's something I…" He paused and took a gulp of breath. "Something about Melanie—and you—and—"

"WHAT?" Dudley shouted. "GOD!"

"I didn't like her!" Piers squeaked.

"NO REALLY?" Dudley snapped. "Didn't we JUST cover that?"

"Yes but!"

"WELL, WHAT?"

"Dudley!" Piers said desperately, finally whipping around, his face a bright pink and his eyes wide and scared. "I don't fancy _any _girls!"

"What?" Dudley muttered, sitting up again.

Piers turned back to the bookshelf. "_Said I don't fancy any girls."_

"Oh, COME ON, Piers. Don't be a dumbfucker! Just because Melanie was shit in bed doesn't mean you're gonna be screwed for life. Like I said to you, we'll get you some more pussy."

"That's just the _point! I don't like girls!" _Piers exclaimed.

Dudley paused. There was something very strange about this conversation—he wasn't quite understanding what was happening. "What are—" he cleared his throat. "What—"

"Dudley, I'm _gay. I mean, _I least I _think _I am."

"Wait…" Dudley stared at his best friend's form, dumbfounded. He snickered. "Naw, you're not. Come off it."

"Dudley, I'm _serious!" _Piers squeaked. "I'm _serious."_

"No!" Dudley argued, his stomach turning into a knot again, only just a tad smaller than the Sarah-Knot. "No, you aren't! You fancied Sarah before, remember? Before I liked her? I decked you for it—YOU LIKED SARAH!" he said, almost frantically.

"No," Piers said softly, still with his back to Dudley. "No, I didn't, Dudley. Look, I listened to you when you starting fancying chicks, how you liked girls really small and girls who were kinda tarts and so I saw Sarah and I thought she was perfect for the description, and I kinda knew _you'd _like her, so—I dunno—"

"NO!" Dudley said loudly. "No, that's not true!"

"Yes it is, 'cause when I saw you guys together I was so _mad _but it wasn't because of her."

"What was it about?" Dudley asked, flustered.

Piers pulled on his collar. "It was… it was _you, _because all you talked about was Sarah and fucking Sarah and she was always up on you, and I just… I… I don't—"

"Oh fuck," Dudley said and turned away, gripping one of his bedposts. "You can't be serious. You can't be FUCKING SERIOUS!"

"I'm SORRY!" Piers burst out, turning around.

"But—we were only _kidding, _we never really thought you were a faggot—and you went with Melanie, and you—liked Sarah!" Dudley said wildly.

"I'm really sorry, Big D. Really sorry—"

"Dude!" Dudley exclaimed. "Piers! What the _hell?"_

"I know," Piers said softly. "Like I said, very sorry. "

"No, but you were so _obsessed _with getting _laid!" _Dudley stated, knowing that at one point, Piers would realize all of this and know he was heterosexual.

"OF COURSE!" Piers cried out. "That's ALL you blokes talk about! I didn't want you to suspect me! The guys all ready mock me for how much I talk…" He stopped abruptly. "Yeah, well, they just mock me!"

"Do they know?" barked Dudley.

"No—I don't—not for sure—"

"Well, okay then!" Dudley said. "It's _staying _that way! If any of them knew I had a pouf in my room, _anyone _at school, ANYONE IN THIS NEIGHBORHOOD—"

"Boys!" Petunia's clear voice called charmingly up the staircase. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, Mrs. Dursley," said Piers, almost tearfully, looking at Dudley with distress written all over his thin face," everything is just fine."

Dudley stared at him, his shoulders tensed up. _'Piers cannot be gay! Piers is my friend and Piers—Piers just CAN'T BE GAY!' _

Piers bit his lip. "Look, Dudley, I said I was sorry."

"You're a fucking queer," Dudley said.

"Well." Piers breathed in heavily. "Well, I guess the visit's over. I—I—Dudley, I'm _sorry—_I just want it to be the way it was when we were younger—"

"It _isn't!" _Dudley said firmly. "Now just leave me the fuck alone."

Piers took a shallow breath that ended in a shaking quiver and he fled from the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Have a good evening, Mrs. Dursley," Dudley heard him say, and then the door shut.

Dudley stood firm in the same pose he'd been in when Piers had left, staring dumbly at the closed door in front of him. The blood was flowing rapidly through his veins; he felt weighed down, completely lost.

He wasn't sure if the worst part was Piers being a homo, or the _idea _of Piers being a homo. Piers certainly didn't _seem _very queer. He smoked bud and drank and played video games. _'But he is rather obsessed with being clean,' _Dudley thought, his brow furrowed. _'And talks kinda high, I guess.' _He didn't know what to think! Piers was the most normal of the whole lot! And _now _he was a _gay?_

First Sarah in London, getting a pregnancy test, and now Piers being a knob-rider?

"**Why is everyone hating on me?"** Dudley asked aloud, his voice cracking slightly in the buzzing summer heat.

* * *


	13. Who Are You?

**

* * *

**

Chapter Thirteen: _Who_ Are You?

* * *

"Naw, Mum, it's okay," Dudley insisted, trying to shut his door, but Petunia was standing just in front of it. "I'm still being grounded!"

She smiled. "You are _such _a good boy, Dudley! And you've been so agreeable these past couple of _awful _days! Of _course _I'm going to let you see your little friends!"

"Mum, really!" Dudley pressed, still trying to slam the door. "One more day?" He had never been so terrified to step outside Number Four.

"Go on to the park, Dudley. Get some fresh air!" she requested with a calm smile. "Unless…" her brow furrowed. "There's not something wrong, is there?"

Immediately, Dudley opened the door as quickly as he could. "No, Mum, nothing! I guess I _should _go, what would it hurt?" Inside his head, he screamed at himself for not making up a better excuse.

--

Dudley was too large to go to the park incognito, so that was out of the question. Besides, the only good disguises were the hats Vernon didn't wear because he said they made him look like a "foreigner". And so costumes were completely out of the question, and Dudley ended up wearing his normal clothes, as easily recognizable as he was.

He didn't know which was worse, Sarah springing at him, or Piers springing at him. It was a hard decision. Sarah was absolutely terrifying because she currently held complete power. Only she knew whether or not she was pregnant, and Dudley could do nothing about her. He didn't even know how he would _respond _if she was. He definitely wasn't going to be one of those Dad-At-Sixteen chavs Mum complained about. Nope. If Sarah was pregnant, he would not want anything in the least to do with it, and he didn't care too much about how she felt. He wasn't completely sure what he would do with himself if she was pregnant.

But Piers was a problem because Dudley didn't want people on the block to know he'd been alone with a gay guy. Even if it _was _Piers Polkiss, his closest friend. _'EVEN IF?' _Dudley thought grimly, while walking sluggishly to the park, the dry heat circulating. _'That's the worst bit!' _Dudley had dozens of questions, certainly, but he definitely wasn't going to ask Piers. He wanted to know exactly how Piers liked and _could _like men, and what was so good-looking about them if they didn't have pussies or tits, and if Piers had possibly picked this up because his dad wasn't around (which was Dudley's dad's explanation for every "incurable queer"). And besides, then, who was the woman if two guys were together? And (gag!) how in the hell did they have sex?

And had Dudley heard right? Did Piers have a thing for _him? _He was scared. He was even _more _scared because it wasn't the fact that Piers might fancy him that freaked him out, it was the idea of other people knowing.

Still, he'd rather have Piers being gay than Sarah completely screwing up his entire life.

He kept looking from left to right, left to right. The good thing was, Sarah and Piers were both around the same height so he could scan the middle-ground. After what seemed like ages, he reached Privet Park and was relieved to see that neither Piers nor Sarah were present. In fact, only some nursery school kids were playing on the swingset. Dudley hoped that because he hadn't been outside of the house that his gang had failed without him. If they hadn't, he would have to question his leadership, and he didn't think he could take another blow.

Dudley approached the swings, not really knowing what he was doing, and stood just in front of the playground. The two little boys were attempting to swing high, but their legs were too short and they couldn't pick up enough speed.

"I'm tops!" the smaller one said, surpassing his friend. "I'm much better'n you!"

"Nah uh!" replied the other boy, trying desperately to kick up the pace. Then, he noticed Dudley watching and turned. He stopped swinging for a second and stared. "Hi," he said.

Dudley gave a nod, suddenly very embarrassed. He pushed a hand through the front of his hair.

"Who a' you?" asked the kid.

His friend stopped swinging, too, dragging his toes in the gravel. "Hi!" he greeted.

"Hello," said Dudley tonelessly, his ears pinkening.

"Who _a' _you?" demanded the taller boy again.

"Uh." Dudley paused, uncomfortable. "Dudley Dursley," he finished with a shrug.

The two boys made no indication of knowing his name, so he guessed they must be younger than six years old. He hadn't seen them here before.

"I'm Nicolus," said the smaller one. "He's Anthony. We are going to be going to school next Tuesday—"

"For the first time ever—" interrupted the so-called Anthony. "Do you go to our school, then?"

Dudley had to snicker. "Naw. I go to Smeltings."

"Whas' that?" asked Anthony.

"It's a private school," Dudley explained, trying to look bored.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Dudley answered.

The boys eyed each other. "_Wooow," _said Nicolus.

"Blimey, you're old," said Anthony.

"Yeah," Dudley smirked. "I guess." He fought back a laugh.

"My family is going to the sea today!" Anthony said squeakily. Dudley was amazed at how young they sounded as they spoke. He didn't remember ever being so short and talkative.

Dudley wondered if he sounded that shrill, and if he ever talked to random teenagers on the playground.

"Hey!"

He turned back to the kids.

"My _family _is going to the _sea!" _Anthony repeated.

"Oh, I didn't know you were talking to me," said Dudley lamely. "That's cool."

Anthony didn't seem phased. "Do you have a brother? Because I do."

"No—"

"Do you have a sister?" piped in Nicolus.

"Naw," Dudley responded. "I'm an only child."

"Wow!" said Nicolus. "So who do you play with?"

Dudley shrugged and chortled. "No one, I guess."

"_No one?" _

The two boys were shocked. "No, who do you _play _with? Whose your friends?"

"Oh." Dudley paused. "Yeah, I have friends."

"Do you play games?"

"Naw," Dudley smiled.

"What do you _do, then?" _demanded Anthony.

It was just then that Dudley realized just how much he did that was awkward to tell a small child. The kids that worshipped his gang (like Mark and Cam) were at least ten, but five year olds? _'Smoke bud, fuck, get chicks to freak out on you, find out people are queer,' _Dudley thought darkly.

"Just uh—chill," he shrugged.

The two boys seemed to think that answer was hilarious. They giggled for awhile and then focused on pounding their little legs, still trying to swing. Finally, dejected, Nicolus turned and looked at Dudley.

"Could you give us a push?" he asked.

Dudley reddened even deeper. "I dunno—"

"Oh please!" Anthony exclaimed.

"Er—" Dudley pulled on his shirt collar.

A fourth voice broke the awkward silence: "So there you are."

Instantly, Dudley turned around, his eyes wider than usual and searching for the source of it. And there she was, Sarah, with her done-up face and primped hair. She was standing with her arms crossed and a rather sour frown on her face.

"Sarah—" Dudley managed to get out, afraid of what she was going to say or _do_. He wanted desperately to know how London was, yet at the same time he didn't want to hear about it at all.

"Don't pretend again that you couldn't leave the house," she simpered. "Come _on. _Your mum? Ground you? Your _perfect little--_"

"No, seriously!" Dudley exclaimed. "I wouldn't lie!"

"Oh. Yeah," hissed Sarah. "Just like you wouldn't lie about _fucking_."''

"I all ready told you," Dudley put in, using a hushed tone," I didn't _know—"_

"You didn't even _come _with me to my appointment!"

"I couldn't! SHIT!" he declared, his face flushing and feeling feverish. Dudley abhorred feeling helpless. Everything he did was done in order to stay on top, and Sarah wasn't letting him keep his chosen position.

"YES YOU COULD'VE!" she shrieked.

Dudley was horrified. "_Can you be quieter?"_

Sarah peeked around his shoulder and saw the two little kids staring open-mouthed at them. "_Fine." _She massaged her temples and sighed.

"Well…?" Dudley asked impatiently.

She smiled darkly. "Well _what?"_

Dudley felt himself getting frantic. It was like the tantrums he had around his parents, like the room was turning, and even though something wasn't really that important, he'd be totally upset—but this time it _was _important. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her further onto the playfield.

"_Dudley," _she protested, but giggled.

"It's not FUCKING FUNNY!" he hollered at her. "JUST TELL ME HOW IT WENT!"

"How _what _went?" she asked, and broke anew into giggles, her breasts shaking a little bit, but Dudley told himself not to look there.

"The—" he began, feeling sweat forming on the back of his neck—" The _thing-- _the—the _London _thing!"

"Oh right," she said with a simper. "Yeah, _that. _Well. Aren't you going to apologise for how you've been treating me these couple days?"

"Don't you fucking play with me, Sarah," Dudley growled.

She flipped her hair back. "Mm, okay." She planted herself down in the middle of the yellowing grass. They could hear the bleak sound of the seesaw screeching up and down in the light breeze.

Dudley remained standing, glaring down at her. "Just tell me."

"I really do love you, Dudley," she smiled, taking a handful of the choppy grass and tossing it into the air.

"Sarah, stop being so stupid. Are you on something?" he asked dully. Everyone was on something these days. Did it matter, though?

She smiled, and despite everything, it was a radiant beam. She fell back into the grass and spread her arms. "Do you love me, still?"

"Yes!" Dudley snapped. It was a lie, but lies worked. "I love you! NOW CAN YOU SAY WHAT HAPPENED?"

"I love you so much," Sarah said, still smiling serenely. "And we're having a baby!"

"DON'T FUCK AROUND!" Dudley declared, but his legs felt heavy, slack.

"They told me so," she insisted, still talking in that jovial, calm voice. "They told me I'm pregnant."

"Don't _say _that!" Dudley commanded, but his voice broke nervously. "_Don't—"_

"Come _on, _Dudley. It's okay," she shrugged.

"No—" Dudley said, shaking his head back and forth. "It is NOT okay! It is NOT okay! What are we supposed to _do, _Sarah?" He raised up his hands in confusion and horror. "It's _not _okay!" he choked. "You can't have a baby!"

"You _just _said you _loved _me!" Sarah exclaimed, struggling to her feet in those stupid, bright pink high heeled shoes.

"I DON'T, OKAY?" Dudley yelled at her. " I DON'T WANT A BABY!"

Her brows furrowed in anger. "Don't you want to _be _with me? You have to! It's the only way!"

"Get a—whatever one of those things was, get _rid _of it—"

"I'M NOT GOING TO GET RID OF MY BABY!" Sarah shrieked, but for some reason, she still looked loads calmer than Dudley and he hated her for it.

"I can't have a baby," he insisted, as though a baby were some kind of item at the grocery store. "I can't have kid because I have to go to school and… I have _school, Sarah!"_

"So what?" she smiled. "I'll be here when you come back!"

"I DON'T WANT THAT!" Dudley said loudly.

"But you want _me!" _She protested, folding her arms in half and glowering.

"I—"

"You **don't** want _me?"_

"I don't—I don't want a kid, Sarah—" Dudley stammered, his whole body shaking. "I can't! It was… fun… but now it's… not, it's just not fun anymore."

"Yes," she said simplistically," but it _is_ your fault. So if we love each other, it's fine. You go to school and I'll stay here—"

"_Sarah—_my mum _can't _find out! I _can't have a kid!" _Dudley told her firmly, as though saying it enough could make the situation change.

"You're _not _listening! It would be great!" Sarah told him, still smiling. "Come _on, _Dudley."

Above them, the sky darkened.

"Look, Sarah," Dudley said in a tired way, trying to fight back his emotions," I can't stay here. I—I gotta go _home._"

"Dudley, come _on," _she smiled, and looked back at the playground. The two little boys were still swinging, their backs to she and Dudley. "It's okay, don't freak _out!"_

"_WELL, WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?" _he yelled. "WE CAN'T HAVE A KID!"

Sarah giggled. "You _just _didn't _think,_ did you?" she asked plainly.

"Sarah, what the _hell _is your _problem?" _Dudley growled and grabbed her by the front of the shirt, his fist brushing her cleavage. She leaned backward, smiling all the time. "Sarah, are you high?"

"Nope," she smiled.

"You're _wasted!" _he shouted.

"_You're angry," _she said soothingly, one slim, white hand snaking downward to the front of his oversized jeans. "Don't be _angry _at me, Dudley. I honestly love you and it's gonna be all right."

"Sarah!" he said jerkily, dropping his hand from her tank top and staring as her fingers clasped the front of his trousers. "Sarah, what are—Sarah—"

"Oh _come _on, you're always raving horny, don't give me that _shit,"_ she laughed incoherently, and pushed her hand down inside his jeans, and then inside his boxers. "Come on, Dudley, don't you think I could make you happy?"

"Sarah—" he whined deeply," it's serious, it's _serious." _He wasn't certain what he was saying anymore, she was inching her fingers around his groin. She smiled sweetly and with her other hand, unzipped his jeans. She began to move her hand up and down, and Dudley, taken aback, surely wasn't in the place to protest.

"It would be good—" she was saying—"and I could move out of Mum's and you could kiss your boring life goodbye, Dudley and we'd be happy."

He kept closing and opening his fists, breathing hard. _'She's pregnant, she's fucking pregnant, she's ruining—everything—' _He was attempting to do everything in his power to be unaffected by her, she was _bad _news, he knew he was, too, but she was BAD NEWS. But Sarah was still hot, and Sarah was biting her lip, her red lipgloss shining. Worried as he was, he went hard quickly enough. And soon enough, Dudley was coming.

"_Look," _he grunted, and reared back.

Sarah grinned victoriously. "See?"

"No, you just-- you—can't have—a baby—"

She pulled her hand away and wiped it on the back of her skirt, blinking. "You're going to stay with me though, right?"

"No," he said, dumbfounded, gripping the front of his jeans as though protecting himself from more of her touching. "No, Sarah—fuck, you're a _psycho—_you're a SLUT!"

"YOU HAVE TO STAY WITH ME!" she announced, her hands on her hips.

Flushing, Dudley zipped up his trousers and gave her a wild look. "I can't, Sarah!" he said lamely, shrugging his massive shoulders, his eyes almost fearful. "I just can't! We have to break up. I don't want a kid."

"_You're so spoiled_!" she barked.

"What?" Dudley stepped backward.

"YOU SPOILED TOSSER!" Sarah shrieked, advancing on him the same way she had last time. She began to pound her fists into his chest, as though she had no plan of action. Tears were streaming down her face. "I just _wanked _you, and you say we have to _break up?"_

"Uh—I can't be with you, Sarah, stop—" Dudley muttered, and then: "STOP!" He grabbed her by the arms and pushed her backward. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

"WHAT ABOUT OUR BABY?"

"I don't _want _one!" Dudley yelled, his face bright pink, sweat sopping up the back of his shirt.

Sarah's gaze darkened, her brown eyes looking almost malicious. "Good," she said in a spit," because there _isn't _one!"

"_Huh?"_

Tears poured out of her eyes, and she started to sob, her dark purple eyeshadow running. "There's no _fucking _baby, Dudley. Well, there might've been but now there's not. In London, Doctor Hart was a right cow and she said I must've lost the baby, because I didn't have it, and I told her I loved you and she said you weren't worth it, and I _told _her you loved me, BUT YOU WOULD'NT EVEN COME WITH ME AND NOW YOU'RE BREAKING UP WITH ME EVEN THOUGH I'M HAVING A BABY—"

"You—" Dudley sputtered, wondering if this was one of those times when he was just stupid. He somehow doubted it. "You just said… Sarah, wait. There's no baby?"

"No," she said, wiping her eyes. "There's _not."_

He watched her, his stomach dropping. "Do you uh—do you need a paper towel, or something?"

"NO!" she snarled.

"You made _up _having a baby!?"

"You were supposed to be in love with me."

"You're crazy!" Dudley said, unsure of whether he was happy about the lie or not. He wanted to feel sorry for her maybe "losing" a baby but he couldn't, not when she'd just put him through Hell. How could she expect him to feel anything but hatred for her?

"But you _love _me, Dudley! _Please! _Please stay with me!"

He squinted at her. "You're a loon," he said plainly. "I fucking hate you. Stay away from me, Sarah. And don't you fucking tell _anyone _about this."

"Dudley!" she whined. "Why would you _do _this?"

"WHY WOULD I DO THIS? AT LEAST I DIDN'T MAKE UP A LIE LIKE YOU!" Dudley shouted.

"Fine, Dudley. You'll be sorry you broke up with me, though!" she told him vehemently, wiping her eyes again. "You'll realize how happy we would have been."

"Get stuffed."

Sarah breathed in, and shook her mane of hair. "_You'll see!" _she said, and headed off into the playfield, kicking rocks as she went.

Dudley watched her with a horrified expression. "What the hell?" he said aloud. "_What…" _He suddenly felt even worse than he had before. He felt too depressed to cry again, but it was that same gut-wrenching feeling. _'She's not having a baby? She lost the baby? Where do you lose a baby, especially when it's not a baby yet? What is her problem?' _He tugged at his boxers and went scarlet at the fact that she'd just given him a handjob without him asking for it or instigating it. It was the opposite of how he liked it. He didn't want her getting the best of him, but he had a very sour feeling she all ready had.

His head down, Dudley crossed the grass back to the playground, where Nicolus and Anthony were still swinging and laughing in what seemed to be uttermost bliss.

"Oi!" Nicolus said, as soon as they heard Dudley's footsteps in the gravel. "Who wa' _she_?"

"Just a girl," muttered Dudley, heading slowly past them.

"She was mean to you," piped in Anthony. "She pro-badly gave you lots of germs."

"Yeah. Girl germs," Nicolus giggled.

"Yeah," agreed Dudley. _'More than you know.' _

"You think you could push us now, please?" Nicolus asked.

Dudley turned around, his voice a low murmur: "It's really not… I don't…"

"Come _on, _please?"

"Okay," Dudley sighed. "Maybe one push each, then you're on your bloody own."

"YEA!" the boys cheered.

But just as soon as Dudley headed closer to the swingset, a middle aged woman came pounding onto the playground, little tan sandals nearly flying off her feet, her red hair disheveled.

"_Boys!" _she breathed. "Thank God, I thought you'd gone _missing! You can't just walk out of the backyard without telling me you're doing so! Anthony! You have to ask permission!" _She stopped in front of the swings and held out her hands. "We're going home."

"_Mummy!" _protested Anthony. "I'm _sorry!"_

The woman slowly looked up at Dudley. "And _you_. Dursley, is it? If I see you within three meters of my son, his friends, or any _other _children in this neighborhood _again, _I will _not _take it lightly."

"I was—" Dudley began with a glower.

"I know _exactly _what you were about to do," she said crisply, and gripping the wide-eyed boys by their hands, she headed off, leaving Dudley even more bewildered, watching open-mouthed in the gravel.

--

When Petunia first came into the kitchen, she saw nothing amiss about the way tons of food had been pulled out of the fridge and the cupboards. She simply smiled and asked Dudley how his day had gone.

When he didn't respond, she looked more carefully at the situation.

Crackers, biscuits and crisps lay out on the kitchen counters, and yogurt, leftover potatoes and potroast sat atop the stove. Dudley stood in the middle of all of it, trying to decide excitedly just _what _to eat _next_. He liked easy things, things he could shove into his mouth with one hand, sometimes a fork was even too much work. And knives were out of the question.

He hadn't felt like this in at least a year, and he decided it was _about _time. Binging was good; binging _always _used to make him feel loads better. He wondered why he'd ever done that stupid diet. He wondered why he'd quit indulging in what he liked best.

"Honey?" Petunia asked, almost as though she was terrified. Dudley knew how many times the nurses and school psychologist had told her this was a _very bad thing. _

Dudley licked crumbs from his fingers and glared at her, ignoring her voice. He moved onto the leftover whipped potatoes, sticking his finger into the depths of the bowl and cradling a heap with his hand and shoving it into his mouth.

"Dudley, it's—" she was struggling for the right words. "They say it's not _good _for you! I wish you _could _but you _can't… _Think of… your title in boxing, your weight class?"

"Yeah, well, apparently there's this new kid from our rival who's bigger than me, so I'm allowed to move up a few stones," Dudley lied, and was instantly proud. _'Good one,' _he thought.

"But Dudders, you can't—you—is there…" she tried to contain her emotions. "Is there something you need to talk about?"

"No, Mum, what do you mean?" he challenged, dropping the empty bowl onto the stove again and picking up a whole, cold chunk of roast, eating it sloppily with his fingers. "Nothing's wrong."

"You'll make yourself _sick," _she pleaded.

"I know my limit," he replied, taking a handful of crisps in his free hand. "You really should stop buying these fat-free things, Mum. They suck."

Petunia's eyes clouded over as she began to quickly put everything back into the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge. "You can't eat like this—"

"Mum, _don't!" _Dudley exclaimed. "Come on, just _let _me—"

"Honey, they told me you can't—"

"They don't know _anything!" _Dudley protested, his voice growing louder and louder. "They don't know a _thing. _I'm just _hungry, _come on, Mum—"

Petunia continued cleaning up the food.

"Mum! STOP! Mum, come on! Let me!" Dudley whined, his hands shaking.

Petunia shook her head. "You can't—"

"OH COME ON! YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! THE RULES COUNT **NOW**? WHY DO THEY COUNT **NOW**?" Dudley hollered.

"I don't know what you mean, honey, you need to calm down, Missus Browning says you need to talk about your problems, not eat because of them—"

"Well FUCK her!" Dudley snapped.

Mrs. Dursley blanched white. _"Excuse me?"_

"I'm done here," Dudley said. "It's pretty bad out there but it's even worse in _here."_

"Dudley, you _can't _use language like that—you—"

"Mum. Just _stop,"_ he snickered, wiping his mouth off, thinking of Sarah wiping her hands across her purple, done-up eyes. "Honestly. All of you just stop."

"You can't go out!" Petunia said.

"Why?" challenged Dudley. "Gonna _re-_ground me?" He chortled darkly. "_Bye."_

As Mum watched, he walked out the door, slamming it behind him, reminiscent of Harry, but in a way that was much more obvious and less dramatic.

--

Dudley thought long and hard before ringing Piers Polkiss' doorbell. In lecture hall, he'd been taught to weigh out "pros and cons." The con was short: Piers was a faggot. The pros were abundant: Piers was a good listener, Piers didn't laugh at stupid shit, and Piers had good advice.

However, Piers was a _homo. _And that was just as powerful as ten million pros put together.

By this time, Dudley was through smirking and being greedily satisfied with upsetting his mother. He was in a bad state. Piers might not even want to hear it, Dudley had to tell himself that. And did he _really _want to talk about it?

The upstairs light was on; Piers was home. But Dudley figured he didn't _need _a long, drawn-out chat with a gay guy. Besides, talking would make it worse.

He turned away from the Polkiss house and headed instead toward Malcom's place.

--

"Been _ages, _mate!" Dennis declared, passing Dudley a cigarette. "So what's all the drama about?"

Dudley lit up and exhaled. "No drama. Who said there was drama?"

Dennis and Malcom eyed each other.

"No one _said," _Malcom shrugged," we jus' figured since you was out of commission that something happened."

"Naw," Dudley sniggered. "Don't talk like a pansy, ain't nothing happened. I just stayed home is all."

But Dennis didn't look convinced. "So what you been doing?"

"Nothing," Dudley said. "Got any liquor?" he asked Malcom.

"Not whiskey," Malcom said shortly.

"What then?"

"Brandy—"

"Bring it, I wanna get pissed," Dudley said, sucking in another mouthful of nicotine.

Malcom made a face, but did as he was told. "_So," _Dennis continued, leaning backward on the couch and tossing a crisp into his mouth. "What's up with Piers?"

"Dunno," Dudley replied instantly, going cold. "Why? I mean… he say anything to you?"

"No, can't seem to get a hold of him. I hope I wasn't too mean to him, it was only a bit of fun," Dennis smiled, but watched Dudley closely.

"Piers can take a joke. Maybe he's sick," Dudley said. He paused. "Like, maybe sick for life."

Dennis looked confused, but luckily, Malcom came in, brandishing a full Brandy bottle. "Now if you drink just half or somethin', it'll be easier to cover up."

"Fuck that," Dudley said. "I'll drink how much I want." He put on his cigarette on the arm of the couch.

Malcom's eyes widened in horror, but he said nothing. "Big D, I almost got in trouble that time we downed the two quarts; I don't want Dad talkin' to me about it again—"

"Ooh, scared of Dad?" Dennis leered. "Come on, I want to see Big D _own."_

"Give us that," Dudley said, holding out his hand and grabbing the brandy, popping off the top and knocking back a swig. "FOUL!" he exclaimed, tossing it to Dennis, who also took a long drink. "So, I heard you and Mel didn't last long," he grinned at the dark-haired boy.

Malcom looked embarrassed. "Er… it's no big deal—"

"You couldn't get _Mel _to put out," Dennis declared. "It's a BIG deal."

"Well…" Malcom looked flustered. "Well, Dudley! _You_ dated her and you didn't sleep with her!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't want to," Dudley replied. "Mate, she slept with _Piers! _And he's a—" he stopped short. "He's Piers," he said lamely. He snatched the bottle back from Dennis and knocked back another drink.

"Just… shut up about it, guys?" pleaded Malcom.

"Sore loser," Dennis grinned. "School next week."

"Don't fucking talk about it," grunted Dudley.

Dennis raised his eyebrows. "_So_, then, what about Sarah? Any nasty details?"

"Naw," Dudley shrugged, drinking more. Malcom watched him despairingly.

"Come _on, _dude! What does she _do?_"

"She freaks me out," Dudley answered with a shrug. "What else is there to say?" His head was starting to pound—the brandy felt hot in his throat. "I binned her."

"You _what?" _Malcom shook his head. "All that _sex!"_

"Yeah, well, whatever," Dudley said incoherently. Why had he decided to come _here? _"It's no big deal."

"Probably for the best," Dennis shrugged. "Emily says girls heard Sarah's kinda mental."

"Yeah," snorted Dudley. "Mental's a good word for it."

Dennis cracked his knuckles. "No, like, she was keeping your newspaper clippings from boxing matches and talking about how she wanted to boff you."

"Oh yeah?" Dudley asked stupidly, but drummed his hand nervously on the armrest. If Sarah was truly a mental case, he wouldn't be surprised. He wondered if normal girls faked pregnancies. Instead of thinking about _that _unhappy subject, he tossed the bottle at Dennis and stretched out on the sofa. "Well," he said. "I don't know."

"You're going to _sleep? COME ON!" _Dennis shouted.

"I can't stay up much longer," Dudley shrugged, trying to close his eyes. Even the few lamps they had on in the living room seemed to burn.

"Why _not, _Dud?"

Dudley suddenly felt as though everything was very bad: Mum, Piers, his friends, his habits, Dad, and most of all, Sarah. "Because it hurts to," was his answer.

* * *


	14. Tea Party

**AN: **Thanks again for reviews/favs/etc! I love hearing your feedback. Also, I am so stoked for _Order. _Gah! We get to see a lot more Dudley action! I'm very excited. Anyway, keep reading and reviewing! I appriciate it very much!

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Tea Party**

* * *

"What the _fuck?" _moaned Dudley, what seemed like only minutes later. White lights beamed down on him like a police investigation.

"He's awake!" Malcom exclaimed, making a hand motion. Dennis came over and hovered over Dudley, staring at him.

Dudley blinked. "_What?" _He sat up. "What are you _doing?"_

"Looks okay to me," snapped Carly, with her arms folded. Carly was Malcom's sister. She usually hid from them in her bedroom and wrote letters to her boyfriend who was in theatre school. Carly didn't associate with, as she put it, "boys like _you_ scum." Instead, she played the piano, made good grades and filed her nails. Dudley had always loathed her. It was no surprise that Malcom was a retard about women.

"Big D, you okay?" Malcom asked.

"Dude, what the _fuck?" _repeated Dudley. "What is this all _about?"_

"Look, do you _want _me to take him to hospital or no?" Carly asked.

"Hospital?" Dudley muttered dully. "Wha—what time is it? How long was I sleeping?"

"Dude," Malcom sighed, shaking his head. "We thought you was never going to wake up—"

"It's _you were," _corrected Carly," not _you was."_

Malcom rolled his eyes and turned back to Dudley. "We thought—" he paused.

Dennis looked wildly at Dudley from above: "We thought you were like, suicidal—"

"_HUH?' _Dudley rubbed his eyes. "What the _fuck _are you on about?"

Carly narrowed her eyes. "Dudley Dursley, stop talking like you're some sort of little thug—"

"We thugs, Carly!" Malcom snapped. "Why can't you understand? We _thugs."_

"Oh, _come _on!" she declared in disdain, throwing her hands up in the air. "You live on Privet _Drive. _You're not _hard!"_

"Bitch," chortled Dennis. "Anyway, Dudley, are you _okay? _Just tell us!"

"Look, I don't know what—" Dudley began blearily. "I don't—"

"Did you or did you not take something last night?" Dennis asked.

"_What?"_

"Big D, just tell us. You were seriously trippin' last night, saying stuff about life that was really…" Malcom trailed off.

"Bleak," Dennis finished.

Dudley breathed in, struggling to plant his heavy feet on the floor. His head was throbbing. "No, I didn't take anything."

"You said somethin' like you wanted to sleep forever," Malcom shrugged.

"I was really tired," Dudley shrugged, desperately wishing they'd all leave him alone. He honestly didn't understand what was happening.

"Do you need me to take him or not?" Carly demanded. "He seems _just _as lively as usual, guys."

"Guess not," Malcom told her. He and Dennis almost seemed disappointed. "We really thought you were gonna commit suicide, man."

"Naw…" Dudley stretched.

Carly made a face at them. "Right, well, I've just wasted a whole load of time," she said bitterly, and stomped upstairs, hugging herself in her purple terrycloth bathrobe, her curly black hair brushing her shoulders.

Dennis made kissing-noises. "So soon?" he trilled. "Come on, lemme fuck you, Carl. You can think of your boyfriend. I don't mind."

"It's Carl_-__**y**_, Dennis," she barked," and no, _never!"_

Malcom made a face. "Dude. That's my _sister."_

"_You_ ain't using her," Dennis grinned.

"_Shut _it, Dennis!" Carly yelled from upstairs.

"Look," Dudley grunted," what time is it? And what…" he trailed off again.

"Are you _sure _you didn't take something, Dud? Cause there's pills missing from upstairs and we thought since you were talking crazy last night—"

"I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT I SAID!" Dudley shouted. "I WAS TIRED! Plus, I didn't _go _upstairs! I didn't take anything—maybe I _should—"_

Dennis grinned. "Dude, if you wanna off yourself, just tell us, don't be weird about it—"

"What is _that?" _Dudley snapped. "Wanna give me a fucking prize for being a little _depressed?" _He stood up and cracked his knuckles. "_Shit." _He walked into the newly painted kitchen and checked out the digital clock above the oven. Dudley blanched.

"LANGUAGE, DURSLEY!" screamed Carly from above them.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Malcom yelled back at her. "HE'S BIG D!"

"It's _six?" _Dudley asked loudly.

"Dunno. What's it say?"

"Says it's six twenty two _AM!" _Dudley said frantically. "I didn't say where I _went—"_

"_Chill_, Big D!" Dennis said, almost scornfully. "Mrs. Dursley called 'round about one; we told her you were sleeping like an angel."

"Shit. How did she sound?"

"What is the _deal?"_ Dennis asked. "First your life-sucks shit now you're _trippin'? _What is the _deal?"_

Dudley reddened. Both boys were staring at him intensely as though he had some kind of disorder. Dudley wasn't sure what was more important: keeping up his reputation with the guys or with his parents. Both seemed shot. But still, he didn't want to come off as some sort of pussy.

He faced Dennis with a stony glower. "There's no deal," he said aggressively. "_You_ got a deal?"

Dennis looked side to side and shrugged casually. "No deal, Dud."

"We good?" Malcom asked, holding up his hands as though mediating a sporting match.

"Dunno, ask _him," _Dudley replied tersely. "So what, Mum didn't care?"

"Honestly, she sounded a little fucked up. But y'know, like usual, she's worried about you."

"No_ worse_ than usual?"

"Maybe…" Dennis crossed his arms. "Look, _Dudley. _Something is up. You mind telling us?"

Dudley looked from Malcom to Dennis and shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. "Nothing. I dunno what you mean."

"Fuck this," Dennis chortled, but rolled his eyes.

"What?" boomed Dudley, his head still swimming painfully. "WHAT?"

"Don't _what _me! There's something up!" Dennis shot back. "You ain't been the same this summer, D, what? You hiding shit?"

"You want me to fucking deck you?" Dudley barked, advancing forward and staring down at the dimpled kid with intense hatred.

And then Dennis did something Dudley wasn't expecting. He walked a little closer.

"Yeah," he said coolly," why don't you?"

Malcom whistled.

"You little _fuck—" _Dudley hollered, and shoved Dennis' broad shoulders. The leaner boy tumbled into the kitchen counter with a bang and then whirled around.

"YOU'VE BEEN HIDING SHIT!" Dennis shouted back, and swung his fist hard against Dudley's jaw.

Dudley's eyes widened—it wasn't the blow as much as the shock that caught him off guard. He looked at Dennis with a fury but didn't know what to say. No one had _ever _challenged Big D and succeeded this well. And Dennis was one of his _own. _Since _first year!_

Malcom seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Dude," he squeaked," you just hit _Dudley!"_

"I know what I _done!" _snarled Dennis," and it _had _to be done—so what's the truth, Dudley? Emily said she heard you done something nasty to Sarah. Why not _share _it instead of locking yourself in your house for nearly two weeks! Are you _scared?"_

Dudley made a face. "What are you talking about? What the fuck does that bitch know about me and Sarah?"

"_Emily's _a bitch? You're the one who was bonking that little _skank!_ "Dennis declared, reddening. "Don't you _talk _about _Emily—"_

"Y'know, at least _Sarah's _not some jealous, frigid _bitch. _You were tellin' _me _I should drop Sarah for gettin' too attached?" grumbled Dudley deeply. "Should have seen the way Emily was looking at you at the party—"

"So what, Dudley? What you think I should do about that?" Dennis lowered his voice. _"Rape her?"_

Dudley blinked. "Wait—what?" He looked to Malcom for assistance but Malcom was staring at him, too.

"Emily and Susan said they can't get an answer out of Sarah. But you did something to her. I heard how she was screaming at my party, man, you can't tell me she wasn't—figure you was mad at her and then afterward…" Dennis trailed off.

"Wait—" Dudley snapped, waving his hands. "Wait, _what?"_

"Come _on, _Big D! That's fucking _hard—_we wouldn't hate on you, if that slag did something to make you mad, but you gotta tell us, right?" Dennis prodded. Malcom nodded in agreement.

"Wait—" repeated Dudley in a mutter. "You think I _raped _Sarah?"

"We know you did, Dud. It's okay, just tell us, don't be a weak pussy about it. That's what we're here for, right?" Dennis grinned.

'_What is this even ABOUT?' _Dudley wondered. _'I wouldn't even wanna… would they? Would Dennis?' _

"Look, I really don't know what you're talking about," he said abruptly, feeling like this was more than having one of his moments of stupidity. This was truly out of his hands.

"Come _on, _Dudley!" begged Dennis, his dimples and charming smile looking almost daunting now. "Did she scream a lot, or cry?"

"You can tell us, man," Malcom added. "She take it?"

"I don't—" Dudley began, looking from Dennis to Malcom with a furrowed brow.

"Don't be _modest," _Dennis leered. "Come on, you told us you binned her, so _why? _Why'd she make you mad?"

"Did she like it?"

"This is _fucked up!" _Dudley finally managed to say. "This is seriously fucked up, guys! Stop! I didn't _do that! _I didn't say anything 'cause there ain't nothing to say. I ain't hiding somethin', honestly—"

"If you're gonna do shit like that, Dud, you have to tell us. We're your mates."

"But I _didn't—"_

"So WHAT went ON?" challenged Dennis, once again bristling.

'_If I say she made up having a baby, then they'll say I was lying! And if I tell them she DID get pregnant, they'll start rumors! And…' _Dudley was utterly distraught. He felt completely powerless for once in this group, and he was supposed to be the _leader! _

"Maybe Sarah thought Big D wasn't tough enough," Dennis chided to Malcom. "Maybe she wondered if he liked _Mum _and _Dad _more than _her—"_

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE, DENNIS!" Dudley yelled, and struck the boy in the throat.

"Shit!" Malcom cried out, as Dennis crumpled over. "Why'd you—" he paused and then raised up his hand.

"Don't you dare," Dudley said and raised his fist, but Dennis had came up and shoved him backward. Both Malcom and Dennis surrounded him.

"Is it true what the blokes at school say, then? Are you nothing but a fat mummy's boy?" Dennis gibed.

Dudley backed against the counter, towering above them but feeling ultimately defeated. "Get out of my face," he commanded. "I'm Big D—I'm telling you to _get away—"_

"You're not any better than us," Dennis said.

In a rage, Dudley walked forward and slammed Dennis backward into the dining room table.

"Fucker!" Dennis wheezed.

"YOU ROTTEN CHAVS!" screamed Carly from the staircase. It was apparent she'd been sleeping—her curls were a mess and she was only wearing a lavender nightgown. She flew down the steps and shrieked. "YOU STUPID, FOUL, BULLYING—" she grabbed Dennis off the table and pointed her finger at Dudley. "Dursley, you get out of our house NOW! RIGHT NOW! I'VE HAD IT! I'LL CALL YOUR MUM IF YOU DON'T LEAVE—AND CLARKE, YOU TOO! MALCOM! GET LOST!"

Malcom looked horrified. "I _live _here!"

"I don't give a care!" snapped his sister.

"Fine, bitch. Come on, Malcom," Dennis ordered and the two boys bumped past Carly, throwing evil glances at Dudley over their shoulders.

"GET OUT," she affirmed. "ALL OF YOU! NO WONDER THE GIRLS ON THIS BLOCK ARE ALWAYS IN A SNIT! YOU'RE JUST A PACK OF LOSERS! BIG, UNGRATEFUL, POOR EXCUSES FOR THUGS!"

Dudley stared at her.

"LEAVE, DURSLEY!" she screamed.

He didn't wait one more second.

--

"WHAT ELSE?" Dudley demanded, standing on the street corner between Magnolia and Privet Park. His face still felt flushed, even in the cool morning air. If Dennis was against him, and had brought Malcom with, that meant Gordan would follow them, too! _'But at least Piers—'_

Dudley snapped out of that thought immediately. Piers was gay! And the rest of the gang wasn't listening to him! _'Why did they want me to have raped Sarah? I don't even get it!' _He shook his head. "What else?" he repeated. And school was only in a few days! He'd always had his gang by his side—no one messed with him much because he'd always had an entourage, a team. But now, Dudley Dursley had no gang.

He kept shuffling along the street, kicking every single object in his way—rocks scattered to the street, a bottle rolled into the gutter, dirt flew. He cursed under his breath and wondered what had happened to his life.

"Dursley!"

Dudley looked up. _'Did someone just call for me?' _He looked around cautiously, but it had been a woman's voice.

"_Over here, _Dursley! Honestly!"

He looked across the street, squinting to see. There, in the unkempt yard that made Uncle Vernon redder than a turnip, stood the crotchety old bag who used to look after Harry, Mrs. Figg. She was standing with her hands on her hips, wearing an overcoat that was a violent shade of pink.

"Who, me?" Dudley asked.

The old lady sighed. "_No. _The _other _Dursley."

"What—" Dudley looked around.

Mrs. Figg shook her head. "My _goodness, _boy! Yes, you!"

Dudley stuck his hands in his pockets and glowered. "Well, what do you want?"

"You are so rude!" commented Mrs. Figg casually. "And what are you doing out this early?"

"Nothing!" snapped Dudley back defensively. "Anyway, you're out here, too!"

"Yes, but I _live _in this house!"

Dudley shuffled his weight. "So?"

Mrs. Figg gave a short chortle that indicated she thought he was hardly amusing, and was only laughing to resist shouting in rage. "If you're not _doing _anything," she said tersely," get yourself over here and help me. I'm looking for my cat."

"Uh…" Dudley stared at her. Could his life become _any _more twisted? What did he want to help old Mrs. Figg for? She was a kook, pure and simple.

"Now I _know _you're not _that _dim! Come over here and help me!" commanded the old woman, beckoning wildly.

Helplessly, Dudley looked back and forth, as though someone would save him from this fate. When no one did, he saw nothing else to do besides cross the street.

"Took long enough!" humped Mrs. Figg, glaring at him through her tiny glasses. "Now, I need you to call for Mr. Tibbles."

"Who is _that_?" Dudley asked confusedly, feeling as though he were kilometers taller than the old lady.

She shook her head hopelessly. "My _cat. _I haven't seen her all morning."

"_All morning? _How _early _do you wake up?"

"Four," Figg said easily," and my cats usually come back to me by four fifteen."

"They come back to you?" asked Dudley, baffled. "What, like dogs?"

At once, Mrs. Figg's facial expression darkened. "_Not like dogs!" _she snapped. "Not at all! Cats are tidy, intellectual and proper—dogs slobber."

"Oh," said Dudley shortly.

"Haven't you had a pet? Don't you get everything you want?" Figg asked, bending down to search the bushes.

"Not _everything!" _Dudley declared. "I don't really like pets anyway. I had a parrot once but it was boring."

Mrs. Figg humphed again, into the roses. "I would have thought you'd have a joyous time teaching it foul words."

Dudley raised his eyebrow. "I never thought of that! That would have been funny. Anyway, Mum hates animals."

"Well, Petunia would," said Figg simply. "What is it? The litter boxes? The dander? The extra work?"

"She don't like things on her couches and carpet," Dudley shrugged.

"She _doesn't," _corrected Mrs. Figg.

"Whatever," Dudley grunted. "She says she can't stand how dirty they are."

"_Cats," _said Figg sharply, "are cleaner than you and me. But particularly you, because you are a teenage boy."

Dudley wasn't certain whether or not he should have been offended by that statement.

Mrs. Figg dropped her spectacles into the grass and snorted annoyingly. "Well, start calling for him!"

"For who?"

She seized her glasses and took a hold of Dudley's huge, baggy pant-leg to hoist herself up. "Mr. Tibbles!" she cried out.

"I… I don't talk to cats!" Dudley told her hotly, brushing off his shorts.

"Well, then there's something _very _wrong with you, Dudley. It's Dudley, isn't it?"

"Yeah…?"

"Then _Dudley, _you must learn to talk to cats. When you're as old as I am, they'll be the only friends you've got!" She threw back her head and laughed.

'_Is she fucking barmey!?' _thought Dudley wildly. He figured he was safe, since Harry was still alive after being cared for by this woman year after year. Tainted, weird and more than a little mental, yes. But alive all the same.

"Now," said Mrs. Figg," you must put out your arms like so." She stretched out her arms with her fingers pointing outward. "You try it."

"No!" Dudley said adamantly.

"Do it!"

"I don't want to!"

Mrs. Figg snickered. "Since when do I care about what you don't want to do?" With that, she grabbed each of Dudley's arms with her thin hands and stretched them violently.

"Hey!" protested Dudley, as she forced his arms out straight.

"Now say 'Mr. Tibbles' three times in a row, and that should do the trick."

"That's stupid!" Dudley said. "How's that supposed to work? Anyway, you were tryin' to find him before and he never came. He's probably lost or hit by a car or something," he said carelessly.

"MR. TIBBLES DOES NOT GET LOST!" Mrs. Figg shouted. "And he is certainly not daft enough to get hit by a car!"

Dudley stared at her wide-eyed. "Uh—okay."

"Say 'Mr. Tibbles' three times!" she instructed darkly.

"How's this gonna help?" he demanded. "You _all ready _tried!"

"Because he responds easily to mean and stubborn individuals," remarked Figg. "Now do it."

Dudley had no clue as to whether she was being sarcastic or not. He stared at her uneasily.

"Do it, Dursley!" she exclaimed.

Dudley paused for quite awhile.

Mrs. Figg pinched his arm.

"OUCH! FINE!" he declared. He cleared his throat. "Mr…" he trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Tibbles," said Dudley in almost a whisper, going pink.

"Louder! And twice more!" commanded Figg.

Dudley sighed. "**Mr. TIBBLES."**

"That's better! Once more, Dudley, once more!"

"**MR. TIBBLES!" **Dudley announced even louder, still blushing in humiliation. He figured it would be less awkward if the cat were named Spot or something normal.

Mrs. Figg released him from her bony grip and they both stared into the gray sunrise.

"I told you," Dudley grumbled. "It's not gonna—"

"Ah ha! You did it, boy! You did it!" Mrs. Figg cheered, pointing to the side gate of her house. And indeed, a small, thin cat was running toward them at full speed. The so-called Mr. Tibbles stopped abruptly when it got to them and wound itself around Mrs. Figg's ankles, yowling. "I told you not to wander!" she snapped. "It's lucky for you that Dudley was willing to get you back here, safe and sound!"

The cat paused and looked up at Dudley.

"Weird," he said. "Does he…" He felt rather ridiculous. "Does he know what you're saying?"

"Now, Dudley," smiled Mrs. Figg, "that's ridiculous." She winked and hobbled toward the front steps of her house. Mr. Tibbles followed in a leap.

Dudley stared at them, towering over the garden.

Figg turned around. "Well, what on earth are you doing, standing there like that? Come in with us and have a cup of tea."

"I—_what?" _Dudley said loudly. Mrs. Figg hated him! It was a known fact around the neighborhood. It was weird enough she'd invited him into her yard, and even stranger that she'd spoken to him and let him even look at her cat.

She chortled. "Well, you don't _really _want to go back home now, do you?" she questioned lightly, opening the door and walking in her house, Mr. Tibbles meowing loudly.

Dudley stood, amazed, for a moment and then finally decided to follow her inside.

--

He hadn't been inside Arabella Figg's house since he was eleven. Mum had left Harry there the summer before second year to get some shopping done, and she'd brought Dudley with her to pick Harry back up. The house was smaller than Dudley recalled, and very disorganized. He wondered how Mum had ever picked Mrs. Figg as Harry's sitter. Not to mention the place was filled with cats. Black, white, speckled, old, young… Mrs. Figg most definitely loved cats. Even the pictures on the walls were of her cats, and the ones that weren't photographs were paintings of cats.

"Do sit down. You're making me nervous," said Mrs. Figg, filling an old silver kettle with water.

Dudley looked around. The dining room chairs were tiny and looked like they'd break in a second if he attempted to sit on one.

Mrs. Figg seemed to read his expression quite well. "Right," she said pleasantly. "I'm not used to having large men over for tea, believe it or not. Try the couch… it's held up since the fifties. I don't see why it should choose today to break."

Dudley's eyes widened, but he said nothing. Instead, he lumbered over to the large pink couch and gingerly sat down, as though it harbored some sort of disease. The couch creaked horribly but showed no signs of collapsing, so Dudley leaned back further and tried to relax. A pure white cat ran along one of Figg's dark wood bookshelves.

"Are you still attending that private school outside Surrey?" Figg asked.

"Mhm," Dudley muttered.

"And all of your awful little friends, too?" she pressed.

"What?" Dudley snapped to attention and stared behind the couch at Mrs. Figg's back.

She shrugged. "I thought you were proud of the fact that you had awful friends. Isn't that the point of your little crew? To be as vile and nasty as you possibly can?"

"I… I don't really know!" Dudley declared, shrugging back.

"Oh come now, Dursley! Tromping around and causing Hell, isn't that what your lot likes to do?"

"I dunno. Sometimes." He turned back around. "I guess."

"You're an articulate speaker, I'll give Vernon and Petunia that!" Mrs. Figg said with a little snicker. "I always thought it was funny that as soon as you got accepted to that school, your little friends followed suit. You're well admired, at least."

"I don't know."

"Dursley!" Mrs. Figg exclaimed. "Is there something you _do _know?"

At that moment, the kettle began to shriek.

Dudley was safe from answering, at least for the moment. He settled back on the cushions.

"Here you are," said Mrs. Figg, coming in the room and handing him a large mug. (It had a picture of a cat on it.) "I also had these biscuits since last Christmas. I don't really know how good they are." She set a platter on the coffee table and sat across from Dudley in a red armchair.

"That's okay," Dudley shrugged, and grabbed for one.

"I knew you wouldn't mind," Mrs. Figg said simply.

A brown and orange cat with a humongous, fluffy tail hopped onto Dudley's lap. "Hey!" he said loudly. The cat purred like a machine and circled round and round on his knees, kneading him with its paws. "What's it _doing?"_

"That's Flutterkins, and she seems to like you." Mrs. Figg sipped her tea and looked amused.

"How do I get it off?" Dudley demanded, lifting his hands in the air as the cat continued to work its paws into his legs.

"You don't! Not in my house!" Mrs. Figg said firmly. "And she is a she, not an it. Don't tell me you're a cat hater as well as a hoodlum."

Flutterkins finally lay down in the middle on Dudley's lap in a flop. He pretended to be grumpy about it, but he honestly didn't mind. The cat was warm and looked happy. "I'm not a cat _hater. _I just don't like 'em."

"Not one of those callous dog-loving, cat-killing freaks, are you?" Figg wanted to know.

"I don't like dogs either!" Dudley shrugged. "I don't care."

"I suppose I can handle that." Mrs. Figg set her tea down on the table and crossed her ankles. "Now," she began," what is the matter?"

"Huh?" Dudley looked up. "What?"

"Don't lie, Dudley—I've never seen you out in the morning. And taking a _walk _nonetheless!? Goodness, boy, the earliest I've seen you out is eleven, and even _then_ you're moving like a slug!"

Dudley looked down. "Nothing's wrong. I was just messing around."

"Without your friends?"

Dudley shrugged and drank from his mug.

Mrs. Figg folded her arms. "I know about falling outs, Dudley. Is that what happened? Is your lot having a row?"

Suddenly, Dudley felt desperate and angry. "More like everyone is ganging up on _me_!" he burst out. "I mean, I'm the one who started _them, _right? None of them was hard until they met me. Now they're like… acting like they _got _something on me? They don't even know! They don't know what it's like! And they think I did stuff that I _didn't _do. But they _aren't _even cool!"

Mrs. Figg cleared her throat. "Either you were just speaking gibberish, or I'm not in with the hip new jive. Could you translate that?"

"Oh. Well…" Dudley bit his lip, wondering why he'd said anything in the first place. "They are against me. And sayin' I did things. And I didn't."

"Now, that was much simpler, don't you think?" she mused. "Though half as dramatic. Well, you win some, you lose some. Can you be more specific?"

"Can I what?"

"Are you incapable of answering simple questions, Dursley, or are you being coy?" she challenged.

Dudley shook his head. "Look, I pretty much failed English. So I don't know what you're on about."

At this, Mrs. Figg laughed delightedly for what seemed like forever. "Very well," she said, when she'd finally calmed down again. "What you're trying to tell me is that there's been a sort of uprising? Your little friends want to be in charge now?"

"Not sure. Think so," Dudley answered, and had another drink of tea. "I didn't really see it coming."

"I can believe it. But it's not just you. Those types are hard to read," she said mysteriously. "What do you think about them wanting to have your place?"

"It's not going to even _work!" _Dudley said firmly. "I'm not gonna listen to them. If they don't want to roll how we're supposed to roll, then I am just out."

"Maybe that's how they felt, always getting told what to do by _you."_

"I don't care how they felt!" Dudley exclaimed, so loudly that Flutterkins shifted and glared up at him nastily.

"At least you're an honest brat," Mrs. Figg said bluntly.

Dudley ignored her. "Anyway, Dennis is bloody mazed. I don't get him a bit."

"Imagine that."

"No, really!" Dudley insisted. "Like… if you did something not good, and a bloke you knew liked ya more for it, isn't that sort of mental?"

"What did you do?"

Dudley blushed. "It wasn't something I _did. _It was something I didn't do! They think I… hurt someone. And Dennis reckons if I told him I _did _do it, he'd like me better. Or something. If I told them I did it, then I'd make them think I'm even more hard. And cool."

"So why don't you? If you enjoy being the leader that much, isn't it worth it?"

He sighed. "I don't _know! _I guess I don't want them spreading sh—spreading stuff around, like, that wasn't the truth. And I didn't _do _it."

"I must say, that's extremely smart of you. It's never good to admit to something you weren't a part of. And on the other hand, it's equally important to be responsible about the things you _did _do," Mrs. Figg put in slowly.

"Is that a message to me, or what?" Dudley asked.

"Do _you _think it's a message to you?"

"I don't know," he said.

Mrs. Figg grabbed her empty mug and headed to the kitchen. "What about that little girl who trolls after you and your fellows?"

Dudley's empty hand gripped the armrest. "Who?"

"Oh, you know… that slip of a thing who's always got herself all over you. Sandra?"

"…Sarah?" asked Dudley.

"Oh _yes. _Big high heels, right?"

"Yes," Dudley choked. "What about her?"

"Is she your bird or something, Dudley? She's really not your mother's type, now is she?" mused Mrs. Figg.

Dudley turned around. "What do you know about me? Do you know like, _everything?"_

"Dudley, when you're my age you learn how to spy. It keeps you occupied."

"Oh…" Dudley wondered what else Mrs. Figg knew. He shook his head. "No, she's _not _my girlfriend. I don't want to see her again. She's a crazy b—well, she's just plain crazy!

"Girls these days. I'd think they'd want to be all over your cousin, not you."

"HARRY?" Dudley demanded. Flutterkins hissed and jumped off his lap.

"Yes, Harry! What's so strange about _that?"_ Mrs. Figg asked, just as loudly.

"No girls here like him! He's a little freak! He's always alone!" Dudley tried to justify his reasons for how much he loathed Harry, but lately, it wasn't even worth it. It wasn't the same as the old times, when everything was very black and white.

"And you're not alone?" asked Mrs. Figg.

"I'm ALWAYS with people!" Dudley snapped.

"I repeat the question: _And you're not alone?_" Mrs. Figg repeated sharply. "Are they _really _your friends, Dudley? I don't think _friends _should treat you like they did, even if you are an awful boy."

"Yeah, they're my friends!" Dudley insisted.

"Do you trust them?"

Dudley thought about it. Gordan, maybe. But he was too stupid to understand anything anyway. Malcom would tell Dennis, naturally and Dennis was too insane to be trusted. Piers liked rumours and gossip, but Dudley figured he was the most trustworthy of the bunch. That is, if he weren't gay.

"I don't… know," Dudley said slowly. "I mean, there's nothing I would tell them, anyway."

"_Really?" _mused Mrs. Figg. "Nothing?"

'_Well, besides Sarah, Mum being a nag, Dad never being home, Piers being gay, WHY Piers is gay!?, Harry, Harry's school, Harry and me almost getting kissed those dementoids.' _

"I guess I have nothing to say," he told her with a shrug.

"Even if that's true, I hardly believe it," she said crisply. "Everyone has something to say. Especially when they're sending off a completely different image of how they really are."

"Huh?"

"Dudley," Mrs. Figg said quietly. "I've lived in this neighborhood for ages, and I remember everything. I remember when your parents moved into Number Four. I remember Petunia walking you around in that awful yellow stroller, and your dad getting promoted. I remember when they took Harry in."

Dudley cringed. "Well, what does that have to do with anything?"

"You've never been a wholly nice child. You were spoiled from birth, and very loud. But you never used to be _mean. _Prejudices aren't bred, Dudley, they're learned behaviors. I remember how you used to act around your cousin, when you weren't around your parents."

"_What?" _Dudley demanded. "Harry and I hate each other. Always."

"Don't you wish it were that easy?" Mrs. Figg asked with a sad smile. "Dudley, I want you to go to the front window, and look out of it."

"Why?"

"Just look."

With an exasperated sigh, Dudley stood up and did what she'd requested. He stared outside, into the street. "Yeah. So what?"

"Don't you remember walking along there every single day?"

"…No," Dudley said disdainfully. "What do you mean?"

"Nursery school, Dudley," she hinted.

He thought about it, watching the shadows of daylight creeping through the road. The picket fences, the manicured lawns… the bus stop. "Oh." He wondered how he could have forgotten.

"You and Harry used to walk this way every single day. Petunia wanted to walk with you, but as I recall, you threw a huge fit. So I was asked to keep an eye out through the window. I reckon your parents think I have nothing better to do with my life, but I was happy to do it anyway."

"Well, what about it?" Dudley asked, tracing his hand along the glass of the window.

Mrs. Figg paused before saying: "When you and Harry were far down the street, I could see that you two walked rather apart. You would walk in front of him and he would walk behind. But as soon as you neared the stop, you would hold his hand."

Dudley turned around. "No I _wouldn't!"_

"You did, Dudley. Harry was always more of the adventurous sort. I believe you were helping him stay focused on the task at hand." She smiled.

"I DIDN'T DO THAT!" Dudley insisted. "That's stupid! Why would I _do _that?"

"Because like it or not, you were protective of him. However, all that changed when you were told daily about what a _freak _he supposedly is. Children don't naturally hate, Dudley. I think that if you stop trying to be such a terror, you'd be happier."

"But I _am _this way!" Dudley said firmly.

"Are you?"

"You're confusing!" he declared. "Everything is confusing! I hate my friends—but REALLY now that they hate me, too. I don't know what to think about Harry and I really don't want to go back to school!"

"Why not?"

"Well, I hate school anyway. But if Dennis and Malcom don't wanna be in my crew anymore, then Gordan won't. And Piers just isn't part of us anymore. So what do I _do?"_

"You stop being a bully and hiding behind your thugs is what you do," said Mrs. Figg simply. "Or at least, it's what you'll _have _to do. You haven't really a choice, unless you can convince them to come back. But you'll have wasted your energy on people you can't even stand. Do you really want to do that?"

"I don't know! Should I prove to them I didn't do anything?"

Mrs. Figg raised her eyebrow. "Why would you do that when they didn't believe you in the first place?"

"I need them!" Dudley announced loudly, and then went red, running his hand over the back of his neck. "They stop people from saying shit about me! I _need _them—"

"Now don't get hysterical, Dudley! Honestly! Did you think you were _always _going to have them around? I can guarantee that people you might meet in the future wouldn't be all too impressed if you still ran around with a bunch of hoodlums from Privet Drive! And besides, you don't even _like _them! So I suggest you wise up and let them go their separate ways. Try to find people with _substance, _Dudley. People you can trust!" she told him pointedly.

"But that's hard—"

"It will be good for you to challenge yourself—believe me!" she continued. "If you want the easy way, then keep acting like you hate your cousin, and get back with those so-called friends. But if you really want to turn your life around… You know what to do."

"'But I—"

"Dudley, you know what you need to do. Whether you do it or not is your choice."

Dudley tried to talk back to her, but for once, he could tell that what she was saying was the absolute truth.

--

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL NIGHT?" Dad demanded, as soon as Dudley walked through the door. Mum was behind him, her face looking like she'd been crying.

"Didn't Dennis tell you? Out," said Dudley with a careless shrug.

"If you think this is funny, you have another thing coming, Dudley Dursley!" Dad told him furiously. "Your mother and I were worried—I missed _work _today and I was supposed to meet again with Mr. Mason—I was going to sell him on an order this time and you had to go and make us _sick! _Not to mention cursing at your _mother! _Dudley, what are you trying to PROVE?"

"I'm not proving nothing."

"Are you _unhappy?" _Petunia asked quietly.

"Yeah. But that's nothing new!"

"YOU BETTER EXPLAIN YOURSELF, DUDLEY—"

"Vernon, don't _shout—"_

--"WE HAVE TO SORT OUT THIS NONSENSE!"

"But don't _shout—"_

"**BOTH OF YOU SHUT UP!**" Dudley hollered.

His parents stared at him blankly.

"I don't want to talk about _anything, OKAY? _Just leave me ALONE!"

"WE WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAS BEEN GOING ON!"

"I don't want to talk to you!" Dudley snapped. "You care, yeah, I know, but then you really DON'T! It's always about HARRY and how BAD he is, and then that makes me GOOD? All you do is talk about everything BAD!"

"Dudley, Harry is a very troubled boy—"

"Maybe I'm troubled, TOO!" Dudley shouted.

"No!" Petunia said softly. "Of course you're not; you're my perfect little boy—"

"THAT ISN'T TRUE!" roared Dudley, looking just as angry as Vernon was. "I'M NOT PERFECT! I'M NOT EVEN GOOD!"

They stared at him, shocked.

"You'd better explain this mess right now!" Vernon exclaimed.

"I don't want to," said Dudley simply, and charged past them.

"YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" Vernon shouted.

"NO!" Dudley said back.

"_Please!" _Petunia wailed.

Dudley made it up the stairs and slammed his door, locking it behind him. "I HATE them!" he said aloud. With that, he kicked his shelf and was impressed at the bang it made when all of its contents crashed onto the floor. Breaking things was always satisfying.

* * *


	15. Painting the Roses Red

**AN: **I'd like to thank Stalicon, who made awesome fanart for this story! Look him up on deviantart. He's great, and has really made me feel inspired. I also posted more fanart for it-- I'll have all of the gang soon. So far I have Piers, Malcom and Sarah. I have the link on my profile.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Painting the Roses Red**

* * *

"If there's something you want to say, you'd better say it now, Dudley," Vernon said gruffly from the front seat. Petunia whimpered. 

Dudley sat next to his book bag, clutching his silver discman. He'd avoided talking to his parents during the entire car ride to Smeltings, and he'd figured that was out of sheer luck. No one had spoken to him for days. Mum kept crying and looking at the floor every time he absolutely had to see her, and Dad stayed rooted behind the walls of work and his newspaper. They were giving him what he'd heard was known as The Silent Treatment. Piers said his mother used that one a lot. This was Dudley's first time experiencing it.

However, Dudley was experiencing The Silent Treatment from **everyone**. Of course, he wasn't talking to Piers, and Dennis and Malcom weren't talking to _him. _He'd seen Gordan walking past his house while he was on the porch. The boy had made full eye-contact with him, glared and sauntered past. Dudley had watched him confusedly before going into the house. _Sarah _wasn't even talking to him, and she was supposed to be in love with him. He wondered if everyone knew something he didn't.

"_Dudley,"_ repeated Dad loudly.

Dudley snapped out of his thoughts. _"What?"_ he retorted.

"This is your chance! Tell us what in _hell _is the matter!" Vernon told him.

"Nothing's the matter, Dad!"

"Then why are you acting out, Dudley? No one raised you to spout swearwords to _Mum! _And stay out in the middle of the night, and then come walking home any time in the morning you damn please when we're WORRIED!"

"Since when…" Dudley began and then stopped.

"Since when WHAT?"

"I don't know, Dad!" Dudley affirmed. "I honestly don't know!"

"Well," Vernon said delicately. "You'd better figure it out."

Finally, Petunia turned around. "We love you, Dudders. We love you _so much. _But you have to tell us what's going on so that we can help you!"

"NOTHING!" Dudley said and kicked the seat. "I DON'T NEED HELP."

"Then, since that's settled, you need to remember a few things," Vernon barked, and Dudley waited. Maybe Dad was going to lay out some rules. _That _would be interesting. Dudley absolutely hated rules. He'd never had them at home, so at school, it was terrible. If Mum and Dad _did _make rules, they'd better be easy to follow, or else Dudley wouldn't have any of that.

"No worrying Mum," Dad went on. "And absolutely _no _cursing. We'll see you on Family's Day at the end of the month, and I want to see that you're still doing well with your boxing. You need to _practice."_

Dudley waited, but Dad didn't go on.

"Is that it?" he asked slowly.

"Yes, what were you expecting, son?"

Dudley felt his insides tie up. "Nothing," he grunted. _'No rules. Just about my boxing? And cuss words? What is THAT?' _He swung his door open agitatedly and grabbed his bag, headed to the back and popping the trunk, grabbing his suitcases and swinging one over his shoulder, dragging the other behind him.

"Dudley!" Dad exclaimed, opening his door and standing up. "Do you need some help, son?"

"Dudley, don't be mad at us!" Petunia burst out, also getting out of the car. "We love you, Dudders!"

Dudley ignored them and kept right on going, staring gloomily at the cold, stone school in front of him. His fellows were also approaching it in their crisp maroon suit jackets. The little kids were swinging the prized Smeltings sticks above their heads and jabbing each other like they were swords. Dudley knew that would get old soon. When he was close enough to the school, he threw a wary glance behind him. Mum and Dad were standing and staring at him, holding onto each other like they might start crying. As soon as they saw him looking, they waved. Disgusted, Dudley turned away. Finally, they drove off.

Dudley didn't know whether to be happy they'd actually come close to understanding that he was dissatisfied with life, or to be totally angry because they hadn't come that close at all. He picked indifference. He was good at that.

"Well, look who it is. The school mascot himself. How was your summer, _whale?" _

Dudley knew who it was before he even turned around. It was Colin.

Colin Bard was even scrawnier than Piers Polkiss and twice as annoying. He wore triangular glasses and spoke like he was a Posh, when everyone knew he was middle class. Colin was the president of many clubs on campus, not well liked but appreciated for his wit and clean-cut style. Colin had won the spelling bees in Surrey every year since second, and prided himself on being a know-it-all. Needless to say, Colin and Dudley could not see eye to eye. It had started in first year, with Colin making a remark about Dudley's word usage, and had developed when Dudley threw a punch at him. Just as Dudley had a posse of thugs, Colin had a posse of his very own, but it was made up of well-versed little nerds who spouted mathematical equations and expected Dudley's lot to feel bad when they didn't understand.

"Go wank yourself, Bard," Dudley said throatily. He was in no attitude to speak to anyone, particularly since he was without a crew.

"_Oh!" _Colin snorted. "_Oh, ho!" _He laughed, sounding like a donkey braying. He grinned at his mate Rushton, who was, apparently, a child prodigy. "Did you hear that? Dursley attempted to make a comeback; isn't that amazing?"

"Extraordinary," Rushton said dramatically.

"_Exhilarating!" _Colin grinned.

"Shut the fuck up!" Dudley snapped, gritting his teeth.

"What's wrong, Dursley? Didn't you study the dictionary this summer like we instructed you to?"

"Fuck off, Bard," Dudley said.

"Hey, hey!" Colin exclaimed. "There's something amiss here! Do you notice it, Rushton?"

"What?" snapped Dudley. "Notice what?"

"Why, were you too unintelligible to notice, Dursley? Your good men have gone. Guess they forgot it was school today, wouldn't surprise me," Colin said pleasantly.

"So what?" Dudley glowered. "I'll still mess you up!"

"_Ooh," _Rushton said. "We're very threatened, Dudley."

"Yes, behold the _threatening nature!" _Colin smirked. "Later, whale."

Dudley watched the skinny guys as they walked away, hating them just as much as last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. He felt like he was being watched and looked over to the front steps.

Piers was standing within earshot, staring at Dudley with what looked to be a rather downcast expression. He turned away and headed quickly into the building.

Dudley shook his head and gripped his luggage, stomping up the stone steps and entering the front hall where there was all ready a long line of guys gathered. The first day was always complete disorder. They had to wait in line in order to see the list which told them their room mate and key number. From there, they had to go to the gym to collect their keys (it was an old building, and the gym had the most storage of any other part of the school). From there, they would settle into their rooms and get their schedules. It was very old fashioned and senseless. But the students figured the professors liked to see the boys go on a wild goose chase. In Dudley's opinion, the first day of school was a complete waste, and everyone should just come on the second day.

Even though the other kids had dumped their suitcases on the floor, Dudley kept his held up high, just to show how strong he was. He shuffled into line, dragging his wheeling suitcase noisily behind him.

"_It's Dudley Dursley," _someone whispered.

"_Yeah, it's Big D."_

"_Shh! SHUT UP, he'll hear!"_

Dudley rolled his eyes. First years regarded him as a sort of legend. There were all _sorts _of rumors going around the school, that he'd killed a guy, that he'd sat on some kid and flattened him, that he'd once punched a guy so hard his teeth had all fallen out, and, Dudley's favorite, that he'd eaten a new kid.

They could say anything hard about him they wanted. Just as long as they didn't talk about him losing a fight, or getting beaten in any way, he was fine with it.

The line moved forward. Everyone around Dudley was silent. They all seemed really short and kept turning around and looking up at him. He felt huger than usual.

Luckily, out of his gang members, he could only see Piers, who was a few kids ahead. What was weird was Piers was still looking the same. Still pretty bad looking. Dudley somehow thought he was going to start dressing different, like some sort of poof. Maybe get an earring or something. Dudley wondered if Piers still liked rap, even. It was all pretty weird.

Piers was out there, but at least he was alone, too. And gay, and small.

But somewhere, Dudley knew Malcom, Gordan and Dennis were waiting. For what, he didn't know. They were ungrateful and Dudley hated them for it.

--

"Next, please!" called out Mrs. Thrope, the school's secretary, a wiry woman with large eyes and a frown that slanted down her face like a slash.

Dudley stepped up, kicking his bag. "About time," he muttered.

"Yes, hello, Mr. Dursley," she said darkly. "Did you have a nice summer?"

"No," Dudley said stiffly.

"What a surprise. Anyway, you're in room two hundred and four. And as was requested last summer, your room mate is Piers Polkiss."

Dudley's jaw dropped. "Wait! _What?"_

"Is there something wrong with that, Mr. Dursley?"

"I can't—he's a—I can't be in the same room with him!" he said loudly.

She blinked. "Adolescent quarreling. How quaint! I'm sure whatever is wrong with yourself and Mr. Polkiss will be fixed in no time."

"Ain't _nothing _gonna be fixed," Dudley snapped.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dursley. But you need to move yourself right along. I'm sure if you call your parents, they'll fix it for you, right?" She shoved his informational form at him.

Dudley glared and walked past the front table.

"So you forgot?" asked Piers, who was standing by the stairwell.

"Huh?" Dudley jumped back a bit. "What?"

"We made that request months ago, Dudley."

Dudley sighed. He _had _forgotten. But when he and Piers had agreed to that, Piers had been straight. And normal. "Oh yeah," he said. "Didn't you forget, too?"

"No," Piers barked. "Of course I didn't! I was worried about _this! _Look, if you want to change rooms, you can, Dudley!" His ears were pinkening as he shuffled his feet. "I don't have a disease or anything!"

"You kind of do," Dudley said quietly," and anyway, don't talk about it so loud! People are gonna think that I…"

"That you're gay?" whispered Piers, looked almost wounded. "Yeah right! Even if you wanted to be, you couldn't."

"I _don't _want to be."

Piers sighed, reddening more. "I _know, _all right? Just switch rooms."

"Then everyone will know!" Dudley declared.

"Then _don't _switch rooms, Dud! I don't _care. _I just wish you weren't treating me like this! I mean, look at you, Dudley! Dennis and them think I'm stupid, but at least they don't think I'm some kind of joke."

"What?"

"They think all you did was lies, Dud," Piers choked. "They were spreading around how Dennis beat you up and made you forfeit your title!"

"Made me _what?"_

"Made you give up being leader!"

"He did _not _beat me up, Piers! He did _not!" _Dudley affirmed.

"I know!" Piers said desperately. "You won't believe what he's calling himself, dude."

"What?"

"M. D."

"_What?"_

"Medium D," Piers said.

Dudley squinted. "You're fucking joking."

"No."

"That's retarded."

"I know," Piers said.

Dudley sighed. "I never want to see them."

"They're pretty low."

"Yeah."

Piers and Dudley stared at each other uncomfortably until Dudley finally spoke: "We're not gonna talk about you. We're not even the same anymore, we are just gonna pretend like we are."

"You mean—"

"We'll act like we're tight in class and shit, but I don't want to talk to you, you get it? I don't want to hear anything about _that."_

Piers blinked. "You mean, we—"

"You feel it?" Dudley snarled.

"I guess so," Piers said despondently. "We're not like… friends even?"

"Not really. I don't think so. I mean. I really can't be friends with a queer… like, no offense."

"Okay. Yeah, okay," said Piers quietly, "I'm just going to get my key now. Later."

Dudley watched him as he left, feeling both disgusted and befuddled. _'Piers just isn't the same. And I have to room with him. I hope he doesn't try to hit on me. Maybe he all ready has! I don't know. I'm bad enough at knowing if girls flirt with me… fuck, I don't even want to THINK about this.'_

Dudley gave Piers a ten minute head start to get his key before heading toward the gymnasium. He didn't want to run into him again.

"Dursley, come on in," greeted Coach White. He was a large, graying man in his fifties with angry eyes and broad shoulders. As always, he was sitting in his wheeling chair and glaring at the computer screen, next to the large steel case of compartments on the wall which held the school's key collection. Dudley could guess that the coach hated having the keys in his office. He was very sports-oriented and probably wondered what keys had to do with anything.

Dudley did as he was told and shuffled into the room, dragging his belongings and dodging a few first years who ran out giggling. "Sup?" he asked the coach.

"Not a whole lot, Dursley. Did you practice this summer? Ready for the season?"

"Yeah. Oh yeah," Dudley muttered coolly.

The coach held out his hand for the paper and Dudley gave it to him. "Two hundred and four," the coach said aloud, leafing through the box. "Got it." He got up and handed Dudley the key, but then kept staring at him.

Dudley looked back and forth. "Yeah?" he questioned.

"Dursley, you didn't gain weight, did you?" he asked sharply.

"I don't know—"

"We talked and _talked _about this last year, Dursley! I'm not going to have you let us down by stuffing your face! You need to be in _shape! _Get on the scale."

"What? No!" Dudley declared.

The coach pointed to the side of his office, where there was a large scale that everyone dreaded, but especially Dudley. He loathed every scale in this school—he'd been made to stand on them enough to loathe them all equally.

"Do it, Dursley. NOW," commanded the coach.

Dudley threw him a furious glare and threw his bag to the floor. A few kids paused in the doorway to watch. He stomped to the scale and got on it, crossing his arms. "So, what's wrong?" he demanded, looking at Coach White.

The man inspected the number. "_What's wrong? WHAT'S wrong? _That's a whole THIRTY pounds you've gained, Dursley! What were you doing all summer, eating? Sitting on the couch? We made an AGREEMENT!"

"I was on my _diet!" _Dudley yelled back.

"You'd better restrain that temper. That's the temper that almost got you booted out last year, remember?"

"I don't care—"

"You showed promise, but you're not going to show anything if all you do is eat and complain! You're to see Nurse Higgs as soon as possible. She'll want this disobedience in your records. Damn it, Dursley, _twenty _stones? You'll meet me here _tomorrow morning_ and we're starting up your training straight away—"

Dudley glowered. "Whatever!" He trudged back to his bags, feeling like he was on display.

"Don't give me that bad attitude. I'll kick you right off the team, star boxer or not, you'd better fix that stupid temper!"

Dudley drew in his breath and charged out of the office.

--

The first couple of days at school were extremely uncomfortable. Dudley had Malcom in Pre-Algebra, and Malcom kept looking at him and shrugging the first day. After class, he came up to Dudley and said, "Yo, Big D. I hope you understand what went down." Then he walked away. That was almost stupider than any of the problems in Dudley's math book.

Dudley couldn't do much at the time—he had to make it up to the fourth floor in five minutes for Biology, which was ridiculous even for someone who was in good physique. But for Dudley, it was strenuous exercise. It had been much worse before boxing, but it was still a workout. He'd all ready been to practice with Coach White. He'd basically gotten a lecture _again _about healthy eating and then _another _lecture because Dudley hadn't gone to see the nurse when he'd been told. Coach made him do twenty up-downs, thirty push-ups and then let him use the punching bag in the full gym. That was the part Dudley liked best. Hitting shit.

When Dudley got to the third floor, his dress shirt was all ready covered in sweat, and he was breathing hard. He stopped to get his breath, leaning against the banister.

"He's so fat, he can't even get up the stairs properly," explained some kid to his friend as they walked past.

Dudley ignored them and checked his watch. He was all ready late.

--

"You know, Dudley, I didn't tell you all of those things just to nag at you," Nurse Higgs sighed, as Dudley stood on yet _another _scale on what was the only the third day of school. "You did ever so nicely all last year and you were _almost _at a reasonable weight—"

Dudley made a face. "I didn't even gain that much—"

"But you _did _gain, Dudley. And not just one stone, either. Almost _two and a half. _All right, now, step off." She wrote his new weight on her clipboard. "Did you at least stay within the diet, though?"

"_YES!" _Dudley snapped.

"My goodness, you don't need to bark at me. I've told you before, I'm only doing my job!" She rolled her eyes, and then focused back on her notes. "What did you take for breakfast normally?"

"Oatmeal," said Dudley dejectedly.

"With sugar, I suppose?"

"Naw, Mum wouldn't _let _me!" Dudley scowled. "Just oatmeal. Some fruit." He cringed.

The nurse suppressed a laugh. "Right then, Dudley. That sounds good. Did your Mum buy you those toasted bran flakes I recommended?"

"Yeah. They taste like shit, though," Dudley replied.

"But it's shit that's good for you, Dudley," she said pleasantly, unaffected by his way of speaking since she'd known him since he was eleven. "And lunch?"

Dudley recited what he'd had without even thinking: "Carrots, salad, sandwiches—"

"On wheat bread?"

"YES." Dudley kicked the floor. "We _listened _to you. You don't have to keep asking me so many bloody things!"

"I've all ready contacted your parents—"

"What? Well, what did Mum say?" Dudley demanded.

"She told me the same things you just have, except you failed to mention you went on a binge last week. That's behavior that will cost you, Dudley!"

"She told you _what?"_

Nurse Higgs sighed. "Remember last year, those terms we went over? Control, super foods, healthy fats, _binge-eating? _It's what your parents said you do when you have nothing else going on, you eat, eat and eat."

Dudley reddened and shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

"So _did you _or _didn't you?"_

"Yeah, I did. Whatever."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Because I was hungry."

She snorted. "Nothing else? Was there anything behind it? Any stress?"

"God, you make me sound like a girl."

"There's nothing feminine about getting stressed or sad! I wish you could figure that out. You need to remember what I told you! If you ever get the urge to eat like that, you need to take a walk. Or a swim. Or do something physical. It will make you feel less gloomy—it truly will."

"Look," Dudley grunted," can I _go?"_

She made a sound like she was trying to suppress a sigh. "Fine. You're to check in with me once a week to keep up with progress. And you're to go to boxing practice."

"Anything else?"

"As was decided last year, you'll be fixed special meals as of next Tuesday. You can come pick them up in my office."

Dudley left in an even worse mood than when he'd been chastised by the coach. He knew what to expect from the "Special Meals": tiny-teeny portions of canned peas and green beans, tasteless white fish and brown rice. He'd be starved every night, just like year.

--

Rooming with Piers was weirder than weird. Dudley just locked his mouth and didn't say a word. As soon as he came in after dinner, he'd immediately go to his end of the room and listen to music on his headphones. Piers was either out of the room or doing homework, also wearing headphones. It made Dudley wonder how they had ever been friends in the first place.

One morning, however, Dudley got up at five and started toward the door to take a shower.

"Practice?"

Dudley instantly turned around. Piers was leaning up on his arm in bed, bleary-eyed and obviously still half asleep.

"Huh?" Dudley snapped.

"Are you going to practice with Coach White? He's such an ass," Piers yawned.

"Yeah, I _am," _Dudley said defiantly, and continued out the door. That was the most they said to each other all week. He figured when Piers woke up, he smartened up and remembered the deal.

--

On the first Friday of class, Dudley's English teacher had requested he go to the tutoring centre. He wasn't as slow in reading as he use to be, but he had no intention of ever reading the material, and was always failing tests. The English teacher, Miss Hunt, was new and fairly attractive, so Dudley figured he'd give it a go. But when he finally got up the nerve to go there, he realized that the tutors were Colin Bard and all of his friends. Immediately, Dudley walked out. There was no way in hell he was going to ask _them _to assist him. He looked dumb enough in front of them all ready.

--

The second week of school, Dudley grabbed Malcom by the collar as he was leaving class.

"What the hell are you doing?" Malcom sputtered. "Geroff!"

"Tell me why you're starting shit!" Dudley demanded, gripping the boy tightly.

Several people in the hallway stopped to stare.

"Nobody started shit, Dudley! Get _off—_I'll tell Dennis about this—"

"Dennis _ain't _beat me up, and you _know it—_so don't be talking _shit—" _Dudley tightened his grip.

"FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!" the small crowd started chanting.

"At least MD ain't frontin'!" Malcom declared in a choke. "You were keeping all sorts of shit away from us! I mean, why can't you just admit it about Sarah? She has to go to alternative school again because of you! It ain't like it's something you can hide, Dudley!"

Dudley released Malcom in a shove. "I _said _I didn't do _shit _to her!" he shouted.

"What's all this?" shouted Master Pax, the math teacher.

"Nothing!' Malcom said sullenly. "Dudley was trying—"

"I WASN'T—"

"Actually, Master Pax, for once in his life, Malcom Conner's given a right answer," said a voice from the side. "Dursley did start it. I was able to at least distinguish _that _despite the terrible usage of the English language that followed."

Dudley had the urge to smack himself in the head.

"Thank you, Colin," said the teacher. "You know, I always forget why I love summer so much. And then I come back to Smeltings." He gave Dudley a very deep frown. "You're certainly getting off to the wrong foot very early in the game, Dursley. You might want to rethink your actions before your temper takes control of you—"

"I DON'T have a temper!" shouted Dudley, reddening in the face.

"_Temper_ refers to when a person has difficulty hiding their anger or rage, and acts out on it in immature ways, sometimes vocal and sometimes physical. Having a temper means the person in question often shouts, becomes enraged, gets agitated or is irritable," quoted Colin coolly. "So, _yes, _Dursley, you _do _have a temper."

"Get stuffed," Dudley ordered.

"I'm writing you up," snapped Master Pax," and if that doesn't work, I'm keeping my eye out, and I'll make certain you're punished, Dursley—"

"See if I care! My dad'll just call you!" Dudley replied.

"Oh, believe me, I _know. _But that doesn't mean you can cause hell—"

"HE was STARTING shit!" Dudley moaned, pointing at Malcom.

"Pull yourself together, Dursley," said the little man sharply. "And get your assignment done _on time."_

Dudley made a face at him as he left. The small crowd disbanded, but Malcom and Colin stood still.

"A falling out, hm?" Colin wondered aloud with a smirk. "This is all too brilliant."

"He's not with us anymore," Malcom huffed, backing away and shaking his head. "No way, no how."

"Don't speak to me, you oaf!" said Colin disgustedly. "Anyhow, I'll be interested to see how you hold up without your little chums, whale. You aren't quite so menacing anymore."

"If you try anything on me, I'll pound your brains out," Dudley threatened," I'll fucking pull your skinny little arms off—"

Colin backed up, but his face stayed calm. "I hope you know that I'm quite tight with Master Pax as well as every other teacher at this school, and I don't mind being a snitch, Dursley."

"You've never told," growled Dudley," you're scared—"

"_Scared_ is an outlandish term for how I feel about you. Beat me up; I urge you," he said steadily.

Dudley narrowed his eyes. "I don't feel like it." He turned away and walked off slowly.

"Go on, call your Dad and Mummy, but just know that this year's going to be different, Dursley!"

'_You don't know the half of it,' _thought Dudley glumly. If he knew magic like Harry, he'd most definitely be wishing himself away from here.

* * *


	16. Drink Me

**AN: **Might I take a moment to say how amazingly well Harry Melling portrayed Dudley in _"The Order of the Phoenix"? _Finally, he was a threat, had a personality, had some depth, and made me very proud to be wearing my costume. Except... I wanted Sarah to pop up! Ha ha. I'll post my other livejournal link to my profile soon, so if you're interested you can see my friends and I living it up in character. Melling inspired me deeply; his delivery was way different than I expected, but so _on. _I loved the movie-- if you all haven't seen it, GO!

This chapter is full of cut-up snippets. Basically, I wanted to give a basic idea of how Dudley goes about life at Smeltings. Anyway, REVIEW! Please! Again, characters you don't realise are mine, and Clarice is ronwheezyrox's.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen: Drink Me

* * *

"_Dudley. Dudley, this is for you…" _There was a large birthday cake with light blue creamy frosting, Dudley could hear the voices of people he knew singing _Happy Birthday, dear Dudley_ but he couldn't see their faces. 

"_I'm not doing anything!" _Harry insisted suddenly. And it got very dark. They were running, the sky was turning.

"_Who's Cedric?" _Dudley heard his own voice saying.

_Happy Birthday, dear Dudley, Happy Birthday to you!_

"_Your boyfriend?"_

Piers was standing, sallow in Dudley's doorway. They were ten year old, giggling and shoving each other, Piers was sleeping over—

Harry was pounding on his cupboard door; Dudley could hear him under the stairs and he began to cry.

"_Dudders, don't cry—"_

"_But Mummy, I don't want to get put under there, too!"_

"_Only bad boys get punished—"_

_Happy Birthday to you…_

"_Did he say you look like a pig that's been taught to walk on its hind legs? Cause that's not cheek, Dud, it's true."_

Sarah was in the house, too, smiling serenely until her eyes got very wide and she looked almost dead, lying on the floor and rocking backward and forth climaxing. Harry's savage pounding on his cupboard went to the same beat. Sarah orgasmed beneath Dudley and the Happy Birthdays stopped.

There was no Sarah. There was no Harry. There was only a dark alleyway in a whirling vortex, and Dudley was lying on the asphalt, panting for breath.

With a start, Dudley rolled over, thereby waking himself up. He was covered in sweat, his heart pounding. _'It was only a nightmare,' _he thought, his eyes adjusting to the dark. It was 4:18 am, only about an hour before he had to go to practice.

He groaned and wiped his face off with the back of his hand, throwing off the sopping covers. Across the room, he could see Piers sleeping calmly and quietly, flat on his back. Dudley yawned greatly and flipped over on his side again. If this sort of thing kept up, he'd be just as much of a freak as Harry, yelling and bitching in his sleep all the time.

He realised he was never going to get back to sleep, as he was still shaken from the images in the vivid dream, so he struggled out of bed and headed to the showers.

--

"Three more, then," commanded Kenneth Kraus.

"_Augh!" _complained Dudley, blurry-eyed, and balancing his weight on one thick arm as he bent down in a push-up.

Kenneth grinned. He was seventeen, one of the upperclassmen on the team. "You can do it, little Big D," he said," and if you don't, I'll just have to jab you the instant you get off the floor—"

"Ha _ha_," Dudley grunted, pushing himself up, down, up, down, _'only one more…' _As soon as he felt his chest get closer to the ground, he exhaled and dropped down onto it as though he were dead. He was reminded of his nightmare but shook the creepy feeling away. "Can I sleep now?"

"Don't be mental, D," Kenneth declared. "You didn't get _that _much fatter over the summer, you can stand your bloody self up and give us ten laps. Coach's orders," he shrugged.

At once, Dudley did as he was requested. For some reason, it was a lot easier to obey upperclassmen than teachers and peers. He didn't mind the upperclassmen so much, even though they gave him Hell quite often. It was in a different way; a _cooler _way. When he'd joined the team last year, his gang had been sort of despondent at first, as though his only purpose was to lead them. But here, Dudley could be in a completely different role. The guys referred to him as 'Little Big D', and Kenneth sometimes said Dudley was like a 'big little brother', given that he was the youngest of the bunch but in the highest weight class. They teased him greatly, but he'd done a lot for the team's success. Dudley felt grown up and cool knowing so many older students.

"How was your summer, anyway?" Kenneth shouted across the gym as Dudley pounded his sneakers against the hard floor.

"Oh, you know," Dudley panted, "just fine! Yours?"

"Yeah, same," Kenneth shouted," mostly saw my girl. You got a girlfriend, Little Big D?" He looked amused.

Not expecting that, Dudley stopped sharply in his tracks, making his trainers squeal. He shrugged, breathing heavily. "Not anymore," he replied, and continued running. _'Just forget about her!' _he urged himself.

Kenneth grinned, making a check on the coach's clipboard as Dudley rounded the gym. "You scare her off, Dudley?"

"Something like that," remarked Dudley as he ran by, his legs moving so fast they were itching. _'More like she scared ME.'_

"You'll get some other girl," said Kenneth encouragingly, scratching his shoulder. "Especially when we get you all trained up again. You figure you can go down a weight class this year, or stay the same?"

"Fuck, stay the same for sure. This is hard enough."

Kenneth laughed. "I get you."

"I have to get a drink," Dudley said off-handedly, stopping and heading toward the double-doors.

"No, you can't stop—"

"Try me—"

"Dudley, _shit, _you have to do it all together, you've all ready taken two breaks and Coach told me to give you _none…"_

"Hey, I need to—"

"You need to listen is what you need to do. Your attitude nearly got us in trouble last year, and we don't—"

Dudley turned around, red-faced. "I _won. _I _won _the fucking championship for Smeltings and _all_ ya'all. You should be thanking me. I _won._"

"Well, woo hoo, well done," said the boy, almost bitingly, "but you need to stay focused—I know you think you're God's gift but you have do like the rest of us!" Kenneth stared at him. "Nine more, Dursley."

Dudley almost pouted, but then remembered that that wasn't something he should do in front of one of the older boys—it was sometimes hard to keep straight which reactions to use. Without saying anything, he glared darkly and continued running.

--

"You haven't lost any weight yet," the nurse commented, taking down notes on Dudley's weight," but I can see it's all ready shifted around."

Dudley groaned. He honestly felt like no matter where he turned at school, someone was writing something down about him as though they all were in on secrets he didn't know.

"Be happy!" she said merrily," if you keep up your exercise like last year, you'll slim down in no time."

"Slim down? _Yeah," _he said.

"Don't be so _downhearted, _Dudley. You managed pretty well last year, not that you had a choice—" she simpered, rather cruelly in his opinion—" do you _really _want to go through all of the same embarrassment?"

"Huh?" he grunted, stepping heavily off the scale.

"Dudley, you were in _danger _last year. Remember?! We couldn't even accommodate you with a school uniform! You don't want to go back to that, do you?"

Dudley tried to look like he wasn't concerned and shrugged. In all reality, it _had _been humiliating to be told he had to wear his own pants because the school didn't stock trousers in his size. _Yes, _it had been mortifying to stand out even more, and it had totally sucked to be on a low-fat, low-sugar diet, getting made fun of even _more _by not only his classmates, but then Harry in the summer. She was right. It was embarrassing. It was worse than embarrassing. But no one needed to know that he thought that, too.

Higgs shook her head at his failure to become emotional. He knew he was beginning to drive her barmey, no matter how much she tried to act nice. "Anyway," she snapped," even more importantly, it's a health risk, and I am most certain you'd like to accomplish something useful before you die, so you'd best get to work losing weight or I can't promise you anything, Dudley!"

He blinked at her. "Are you telling me I'm dying?"

"You _will _if you don't take this seriously!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "What is it going to _take? _I told you last year! Obesity increases chances of heart failure, heart attacks—"

"I _know!" _Dudley snarled back," I know! I KNOW! I KNOW!" He gave a short laugh to hide his discomfort, his face reddening. "I heard you last time, _I get it_. I TRIED to lose weight, but then… you know…" He shrugged. "It was sort of a bad summer. And really, nothing mattered for awhile."

Nurse Higgs' facial expression was softening, but she said nothing.

"I don't know what I mean," Dudley added tersely. "But I honestly tried, I just didn't mean to… gain back weight, I really didn't, and yeah, I wanna change but—" he shrugged again and turned away, feeling very foolish, as though he'd just cried in front of her. There was a silence. He turned around again, and saw that she was biting her lip and shaking her head in a sad fashion.

"Oh _Dudley," _the nurse said quietly," I don't care what the others that work here say…And you're truly going to hate me more for this but…" she sighed. "You try to be such a bad boy, but you're really just a big love."

He stared at her. He wasn't expecting that, most definitely. He thought Higgs loathed him and only put up with him because she was supposed to be the poster-woman for healthy behavior. "You think I'm a what?" he asked slowly, even though he'd heard her perfectly well.

Without warning, she strode up to him and gave him a very brisk hug around the middle. He stood still, a little confused, until she broke away from him and shook her head. "If you put your mind to it, Dudley, you'll do just fine. Just…" she stopped mid-sentence and sighed again.

"What? Just what?"

"Stop trying to be such a terror," she smiled. "It may be your defense, but it just isn't healthy."

"Is _anything _healthy?" Dudley demanded.

"Yes, now that you mention it. Your dinner. It's on the back counter."

He made eye contact with her and for some reason, they both laughed. He stopped laughing abruptly though, and instead frowned, and walked to the back of her office. "_Gross, _are you telling me I'm to eat this?" he asked, staring down at what appeared to be a very wet pile of green beans and skinless chicken. Still, he was starved.

"Sadly, yes. You can heat it up here as you did last year and take it down to the cafeteria," she said, still smiling slightly in that kind way.

"Oh," he said. "Actually…" He shifted his weight. "Could I just eat it in here?" _'If she asks me why, I'll just say I don't feel like going back downstairs. I'll get shit for being lazy but that's better than her knowing no one has sat by me at all so far this year.'_

She nodded slowly. "I think that's just fine."

--

"Diddykins? How are you doing?"

Dudley leaned against the wall in the front corridor and strung the phone cord around his large fingers. "I'm fine."

"Really? Your father and I were _so _worried—"

"Well, stop, Mum. It's okay. It's fine," Dudley told her loudly. A few kids walking by paused to stare and he glowered at them until they walked away.

"You never wrote back to my letter, Dudley—"

"Look, Mum. _Sorry, _but I was really busy."

"Mrs. Higgs said you've been making a big improvement with your—your _health."_

"Yeah, it's pretty good. I'm ready for the season and everything. I'm sure Dad will want to know."

His mother sounded excited: "Oh, Dudley, I'm so proud!"

He said nothing in response.

"How is Piers doing, Dudders?"

He swallowed his saliva and felt his stomach drop. "Fine, why?"

"Mrs. Polkiss seemed rather upset about his behaviors the other day—she told me he was very depressed before starting school. So he's all right?"

'_Depressed?' _thought Dudley. "Er, I _guess _he's fine!" he told her.

"Oh, boys," she said pleasantly. "I'll bet you two are staying up at all hours of the night!"

Dudley grunted. He and Piers hadn't had a real conversation since that day Piers had said he was a faggot. Dudley still didn't get it. He wanted his old best friend back. He wanted _someone, _but he told himself he was better off without anyone.

"Just make sure you get your homework in," she chortled. "I have no worries about that!"

"Yeah, Mum," he said shortly," okay."

--

"Sure, you got him down, Dursley, but your technique was completely _foggy!" _Coach White said loudly.

Dudley blushed, as his teammates were all in earshot. "Yeah, well, at least I beat him," he kept repeating, in his usual hazy, cocky tone. "I beat him, didn't I?"

"If you're going to be an in-fighter, then you _have _to move quicker—I won't have you getting fouled by another school like last year for nasty play—nothing _sneaky!"_

"It wasn't sneaky," Dudley argued," I was just showing him who's boss—"

"Well it almost lost us the championship last year, and it lost you your match today. You can be a bully out of the ring as much as you want, but here, you follow _my _rules," spat the coach solemnly.

"I AM!" Dudley burst out, trudging out of the coach's office and slamming his fist into the door as he left. Behind him, he could her the upperclassmen snickering at his reaction.

"This isn't the play yard, Dursley," Coach White yelled.

--

It was nearly February, and despite having no one but his boxing team to hang around with, Dudley wasn't half as angry about school as he had been in the beginning of the year. He'd been building more muscle, and had kept up with his diet. Although he was still Big D, his weight was much more solid, and he was able to walk the stairs without as much trouble. Also, he hadn't beat up one kid, or even had a fight! Basically, he stayed out of the gang's way and they steered clear of him, especially Dennis, whom he knew was avoiding him like the plague.

Looking at the gang from the outside, they seemed really obnoxious. He didn't miss anything about Malcom, Gordon, or Dennis. He was thoroughly glad they were out of his life. He was still drinking socially with the boxing team when he could, but hadn't smoked weed since the summer. It wasn't that he didn't like any of it anymore, but he just wasn't interested in it.

One evening, Dudley came into the nurse's office for dinner and she smiled at him, standing up from her desk. "This came in the mail for you—since you were in gym, they sent it up to me—"

"Oh," he said shortly, reaching for it.

"Manners, manners!" she joked.

"_Please?' _he asked smartly.

"It's yours," she remarked, tossing it at him. "I've got to attend a staff meeting, so I will weigh you in tomorrow, all right?"

"Okay," Dudley said, grasping the letter and staring at it. He couldn't recognize the handwriting and there was no name above the return address. The envelope was pink. He set it aside momentarily to heat up his fish, rice and carrots, all of which smelled unpleasantly like old garbage. Still, he'd take what he could get. Lunches had consisted of celery and salads and breakfast was, as usual, oatmeal, grapefruit and sometimes toast.

"Right, see you then, Dudley." She headed out the door.

"Okay," he repeated. The microwave beeped and he removed the food, sitting down at the back desk and shoveling a forkful into his mouth. He ripped open the envelope and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. At once, he felt sick.

_To Dudley:_

_If I say I'm sorry enuf, would you believe me? I know I lied to you, but honestly, you lied too, and I was hurt. Very hurt. But still, I am so sorry. _

_If you got shit from your mates, you can say it was all my fault. They asked me what you did to me and I said I didn't want to tell them. They asked if you raped me. I didn't say yes but I didn't say no. I hope you could forgive me it means so much!_

_Yes, they might have told you I'm back at alt school. Mum says I have "mental problems" and that I'm "messed up." I'm seeing like two counselors. You'd laugh at how stupid they are. They think they know me. _

_I guess a lot of gurls do what I did. When they love their boyfriend they want a baby so bad so he'll stay with them and I did that to you. I wanted you a lot. Even though things you did didn't make me happy. Still, I know you are a good boy, plus you are always HOT xoxoxox! But maybe I shouldn't have said lies to make you want to be with me. My counselor name Melinda, she told me to write this to you to explain how it is. _

_I want you to take me back. I hope when we meet in summer you can tell me that. (she don't know I added this to the letter) But Dudley, I really love you._

_How r you?_

_Write back please and let me know your answers, okay?_

_Love,_

_SARAH_

Dudley took a deep breath. He crumpled the letter savagely into a tight little ball.

Then he pulled it back apart and re-read it, feeling very panicky. He re-read it. And re-read it again. _'Why won't you leave me alone?' _he thought wildly. She _knew _his mates thought he'd raped her! And she didn't _deny _it!? Plus, she wanted him _back? _He didn't blame her on one hand, but in another way, he wondered why she'd even _write _to him, let alone ask to see him again for real! Dudley didn't understand girls!

Or maybe, he just didn't understand Sarah. That was a little less vast of a statement, but still, Sarah was frightening him now. She wasn't just a cute little stick on high heels. She'd played him well and hard. And now she'd basically cut his gut straight open. He didn't know what it was about her that made him feel so paranoid. He didn't feel quite powerless, but he felt like she was dangerous, and that she'd crossed the line. The fact that he still remembered her as _hot _made it confusing, though.

He could just imagine her clacking into the room and struggling to pull down her red and black plaid skirt, throwing her long black hair over her shoulder. He could feel his tongue tasting her inner-thigh, he recalled running his nose and forehead down her leg, mouthing her breasts, steadying himself on top of her and moving backward and forward, gathering a sweat on the back of his neck as she worked her long nails through the thick layer of hair that hung gelled over his forehead, working her small frame upward to support him. All of these thoughts were intertwined with him knocking her over, her crying, her mascara running, her enraged shrieking, _why did her shrieking get him off now? _

'_I must need to get laid!' _Dudley thought desperately. _'Not by her—' _he told himself, but his groin told him different. _'Is she crazy?' _He wondered it would be all too risky if he told Mum and Dad some crazy bitch was stalking him. Sarah might retaliate. He could imagine her breaking into Number Four and trying to kill him—_'Christ!' _he told himself. _'I watch tele too much.'_

All in all, it felt nice that someone wanted to be with him, even if he didn't deserve her writing her undying love to him, and he certainly didn't love her back. It was all very complicated. And Dudley hated when things got complicated. He preferred making simple matters complicated on his own time!

'_What am I supposed to tell Sarah?' _he thought worriedly, but he didn't have time to think much else, because the door swung open.

Dudley stared, dismayed, at the small boy who entered.

"Nurse Higgs?" inquired Colin Bard primly. "I need—" he turned his head, and his cool eyes fell upon Dudley. "So _this _is where you creep off to at dinnertime! Funny, I thought you were in the kitchen, all ready through with the served meal and scavenging for seconds!"

Dudley snorted. "No," he said darkly. "Not so much."

Colin paced forward, his chin-length brown hair fluttering back and forth. "But you _are _eating up here—"

"Yeah," Dudley said, trying to hide his food protectively, he didn't want Colin working all of it out," look, she's not in, she's at a meetin'—"

"Dursley, are you eating a _planned _dinner? You're _kidding me!" _Colin called out, his eyes brightening. "Oh, this is _priceless—_ I didn't even know that _existed! _And look, you've got your little vegetable slot, and your miniscule portion of starch and fat—this is _excellent—_but I have to say, if I were you, I'd be eating air, this diet isn't working well for you. As usual."

"Everyone says," Dudley began thickly, and then stopped mid-sentence, his ears turning red.

"Oh go _on, _Dursley, I'm sure whatever you're about to tell me is charming—"

"Nothing!" Dudley snapped. He wanted Colin to get the hell away from him. Partly, he wanted to bash the little prude's face in, but he also wanted to simply be left alone. "Just, everybody's been saying it's going well—" As soon as this statement left his mouth, he knew it was a mistake.

"Like _who, _Dudley? The _nurse? _Well, here's some information: _That's _her job, and if she didn't put you on this diet, she'd be fired because she's supposed to be teaching everyone how to eat healthily and responsibly, don't you _get it? _If you lose weight at all, she's going to be the school's shining example that miracles, in fact, _do _happen. And if that occurs, I'll be totally surprised—"

"I _have _lost weight!" Dudley snarled.

"Really? News to me!" Colin remarked, smirking. "You still look like the same mammoth pig—"

Dudley narrowed his eyes, his face growing glum and dark. "Bard, you'd better clear out—"

"Or _what, Dursley? _You'll pound me?" Colin smiled, but his voice was beginning to get shrill. "Because that's all you know _how _to do? You stupid fat ass, I swear, I can't believe you come back to school every year and I also can't believe you haven't been thrown off the boxing team—boxing is an honorable sport, and to have _you_, out there like you're some star athlete, huffing and puffing—I can't _believe _you won that tournament last year. There is just _no justice in this world. _You've done nothing but bad for this school and you get _rewarded _for it, and here I am, working as hard as I can and I don't even get a bloody mention in the Surrey _newspaper! _And there's BIG D! Plastered all over the front page! "

"What the hell's your problem?" Dudley raised his eyebrows… "You jealous?"

"Jealous?" the thin boy stated with a grimace. "Of _you? _Look at you, Dursley! You're eating _alone! _Your little mates have deserted you! You have the IQ of a rock! What do _I _have to be _jealous _about? You're probably not even that good at boxing—"

"Uh, _yeah I am!" _Dudley said tersely. "I punched this kid in the throat last year, he—"

"Got knocked out?" Bard offered and laughed. "_Yeah, _I _heard. _You think you're really something, don't you? Well, you aren't anything you say, going from being a hard thug to eating _alone in the nurse's room? _Look at you! There's no accomplishment you've made that should make you feel proud."

Dudley's lips loosened a bit at the boy's words. "Fuck _yeah _there is—"

"No there isn't, Dursley, you unintelligible whale, look at you! You think you're really _something, don't you?" _he repeated.

'_This is worse than Harry!' _Dudley thought to himself in wonder. It was truly as though Colin were being tortured, like a war tactic, and was telling the enemy everything he thought about them. Harry seemed to only make fun of Dudley when there was absolutely nothing better to do, but Colin had always made it a duty, an obligation, a savage habit. Except _today, _he almost looked crazed. Dudley wondered why he always seemed to attract very angry, psychotic people.

"Could you just leave?" Dudley asked tiredly, his face feeling hot.

"So you can stuff your face in peace?" snapped the boy. "Sure, Dursley, I'll let you wallow in your misery alone, just remember that you _aren't _smart, you _aren't _a threat, and nobody even _likes _you."

"Okay," said Dudley, attempting to look unaffected, but his lip twinged.

Colin rolled his eyes. "Enjoy your _meal," _he said huffily, and stormed out of the office.

Dudley sat for a moment, the sound of the slammed door ringing in his ears. He stared down at his sad plate of lukewarm food, and the crumpled letter from Sarah, the motivational posters on the wall, the scale and he cringed. Dejected, he took his plate of food over to the back of the room and tossed it in the garbage.

'_Maybe I __**will **__write Sarah,' _he thought. _'She likes me, after all.' _He stuffed the pink note into his pocket, and feeling uncomfortably huge, he walked slowly out of the nurse's office.

_--_

He walked around in a stupor for about a week, hiding in his classrooms until he was positive Colin and his friends would be in class. He didn't want them to humiliate him anymore. Instead, he worked on getting his assignments in. The hot English teacher let him take lunch in her class and she helped him understand the books they were reading. He realized he didn't hate reading, he'd just never had an interest in anything beside television and other visual activities. His teachers had discovered a change in him, and actually spoke to him nicely, instead of regarding him as a time bomb that was about to go off. Because Dudley had no will anymore, Smeltings had received less than five angry phone calls from Petunia and Vernon, and that was a record. All of the staff was much more agreeable when he wasn't tattling on them to his parents every week.

Dudley kept re-reading Sarah's note. It gave him a sickly feeling that he almost enjoyed, like after eating too much. However, he didn't write back. He didn't know what to say to her. At night when Piers wasn't in the room, or all ready asleep, he'd flip through a porn or just think about sex and try to get off, but Sarah kept popping into his fantasies, saying she was pregnant, or that she loved him, looking _insane. _He thought it was ridiculous he couldn't even wank properly; she'd really ruined his life. Finally, he had to replace Sarah permanently. He tried to imagine Veronica, the snobby Indian girl whom he'd flashed once, on her knees. She had a bigger mouth, anyway.

--

"Are you fixing to wallpaper your locker, Polkiss?"

"We've seen how you change in the loo; what's a matter? Afraid of getting stiff in front of him?"

"Are you a little queer, Polkiss?"

Dudley heard the sound of Colin and his mates' voices as he rounded the corner, and he stopped in his tracks. Colin, Rushton, Max and Charles were surrounding Piers, who was pressed up against the wall by science class. All five of the boys were approximately the same size, slim and slight, and it was interesting to see that Colin's "gang" were clearly not interested in beating anyone up, and yet, they were terrifying. Dudley could attest to that, and as he could see, Piers could, too. His eyes were wide.

"Please," Piers said," ain't what you _think—"_

"Nice _grammar!" _congratulated Colin sappily. "Honestly, even _with _a year away from Dursley you can't even speak properly—"

"I'm sure if he knew, he'd crush your skull," said Charles gloatingly, "best friends forever or not, Polkiss, you being a faggot doesn't seem like something that Dursley would take nicely to—"

"Is that right?" Colin asked primly.

Piers was trembling. "Just don't say anything, please—please—"

"So you _are?" _Colin asked.

Dudley looked from the four little boys to Piers, back and forth. He wasn't sure what the beginning of the argument was about, but he knew it was something to do with the gayness. But he didn't exactly want to crush Piers' skull, he just didn't get it. He didn't want people thinking he was gay, and he didn't want be uncomfortable.

But at the same time, Dudley realized, when he looked at Piers' terrified face, he didn't see a _faggot. _He just saw Piers Polkiss, the only kid from Privet Drive who _really _knew him. And Piers had trusted him enough to tell him that was gay, and Piers was pretty normal for a queer. And Dad had said gays were dangerous, but honestly, Dad said a lot of very unrealistic and strange things.

"No—" Piers said loudly.

"Oh, come on, if you admit it, we won't tell Dudley," Colin said, smiling. "Your little secret is safe with us—"

Dudley decided that he was going to try and stop being a total idiot. And before he'd really thought this through, he charged forward, thumping against the hardwood floor with an angry glare plastered on his face.

The four boys whipped around, and although the kept their cool very well, Dudley could sense their fear of his size and anger immediately.

"Well, _look who it is!" _Colin managed to get out dryly.

"Oink, oink, oink," said Rushton.

"We were just talking about you—" Colin began.

Piers was staring at Dudley with an expression that read _'What the fuck are you doing?' _Dudley shrugged at him.

"You need—" began Dudley hoarsely. He didn't know how to state this without sounding gay himself. "You need to back off from him."

"Oh, that _is _adorable," Colin said primly.

"Shut the fuck up, Bard, and move the fuck away from Piers!" Dudley growled.

"Has he told you his little secret, Dudley?" Colin asked sweetly.

"I want to see Big D _pound_ the little faggot," grinned Charles.

"Has he told you his _secret?" _repeated Colin slowly, as though Dudley couldn't understand.

"YES," said Dudley, just as slowly. "HE HAS."

The four boys looked a little shocked, but kept smiling.

"Really?" asked Colin, his smile fading. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Dudley trailed off. Piers was looking at the floor. "I think I don't get it. But I also think… he's still Piers."

Piers looked up, his eyes wide.

Colin and his friends looked at each other. "Are you serious?" Colin asked slowly.

"You know," Dudley said firmly," you don't have to talk to me like I'm retarded. I can understand you just fine."

"But—" Colin began, looking back at Piers and then to Dudley.

"What's amatter?" Dudley asked heavily, his face stony and solemn. "Can't you think of some big words to throw at us?"

"I—"

"The fat jokes are getting old, too," remarked Dudley calmly, wondering where these words were coming from and why he wasn't beating Colin into the floor. But this was almost more fun. "Can't you find another thing to tease me about?"

Colin and his friends stared. Piers stared.

Dudley felt awkward. "Look, can you just back away from him?"

They stood rooted to the floor.

"If you don't move, I'll pick you up and throw you across this fucking room," Dudley said evenly.

"Come on," Colin said quietly," let's clear out." They stepped around Dudley as far as they could, and speed-walked down the hallway, clutching their bookbags.

However, Piers stayed against the wall, looking possibly more frightened. "You didn't have to say all that—I mean—"

"I meant it," said Dudley sorely. "I don't know why I meant it, but I did. I mean, I do." He shrugged.

Piers let out a breath. "Thanks, Big D."

"It's okay," Dudley said awkwardly.

"No, that was really great—"

"I know," Dudley grinned. "I didn't even have to punch him—"

"I wouldn't have minded that either," Piers grinned.

"He's such a dick," Dudley glowered. "Anyway, what was it all about?"

Piers blushed. "Just.. stuff."

Dudley noticed he was clutching a newspaper. "Give us that," he said.

"Uh—"

He grabbed it out of Piers' hands. It was the newspaper Colin had been talking about. **DURSLEY TAKES LEAD AGAIN** proclaimed the headline. There were photographs of Dudley's last match, and the boxing team, action shots. He looked back up at Piers, who was biting his lip. Dudley handed it back.

"You like me, do you?" he asked uneasily.

Piers shrugged. "No… yeah… I mean—I follow the matches, you're my friend, I'm just interested in the sport, really—"

"I'm just glad _someone_ likes me," Dudley said strongly. "Come on, let's go to dinner."

--

"He _was _jealous of you," Piers said later in the dorm room. "I mean, didn't you hear how he won some thing and got money, or whatever?"

"Huh?" Dudley asked, from where he was flopped over the side of his bed.

"Yeah, pretty much," Piers laughed. "He's all upset 'cause no one knows he like, won this thing."

"What thing?"

"Dunno. Some school thing."

"Oh. That's stupid," Dudley replied. "He's worse than my cousin. That's saying something."

Piers chortled. "How _is _Harry, anyway? You don't talk about him anymore."

"Oh…" Dudley shrugged. "He's just a freak as always. I don't know, he's weird. Whatever. Like you said, it's not the same."

Piers nodded from his place in the window sill. "So…" his voice got quiet. "Can you tell me what really happened this summer? I mean! If you want to!"

"What really happened?" Dudley looked at the floor and traced his finger on the bedspread.

"Dudley, there's more to it, we all knew it but we never like to ask—it didn't mean I didn't _care, _but I tried to ask and you wouldn't say and—then we weren't talkin'… but something happened with Sarah? Did you really…?"

"I didn't rape her, if that's what you're getting at."

"Oh," Piers sighed. "Good. That was kinda too harsh for even you."

"Yeah," Dudley said," and Dennis said if I had, he'd like me better if I admitted it."

"What a mental case!" Piers exclaimed. "He was always a little off but I wouldn't of thought that he'd actually…"

"Yeah. I mean… I wouldn't rape her." Dudley took in a deep breath. "But some other shit went down." He rolled up and sat on the bed. "I haven't sad anything, I mean, Harry knows, but… anyway. I hit Sarah."

"You what?"

"I was drunk, Piers, and she pissed me off so I just bashed her in the jaw and like, I beat her up kinda bad." Dudley shifted uncomfortably.

Piers was quiet for a moment. "What did she _do _to you?"

"Nothing, I was drunk, you know how I get kind of angry-like—"

"Yeah, but… Big D… that's…"

"I know."

"What did she say?"

"She fucked me. And we made up."

It was Piers' turn to look uncomfortable. "Wow," he said tonelessly. "That's weird. I mean… She… hm."

"But Piers, she's a wack-job!" Dudley said, in his defense. "There's more. She… she pretended she was pregnant to make me love her."

Dudley had never seen Piers raise his eyebrows so high. "What did you _do?"_

"I freaked, dude, I didn't know what to do… I don't want a kid—"

"Didn't you guys… use a condom?"

"…Don't even get me started on that," Dudley grunted. "Anyway, now she's like… after me."

"After you?"

Dudley shook his head sadly and reached over to his nightstand, rummaging around and pulling out the note. He crumpled it up again and tossed it at Piers. It hit his shoulder and bounced to the ground. Piers shrugged sadly and hopped off the sill, picking it up and reading. After a few minutes, he set the letter down. His eyes were very large.

"I think she's your stalker, Dudley," Piers said. "And she has _two _counselors."

"I know," Dudley nodded, glad that Piers found her just as terrifying as he did. "So what am I supposed to do? I'll _have _to see her! And she sorta freaks me out a bit, like, she's _not _just harmless, she's creepy--- and it ain't like Privet Drive is all big or somethin', we're _going to run into her!" _

"Calm down," Piers said slowly. "We'll think of some kinda plan."

"Look, if she starts shit again, I'm fucked. All ready I had to hide all sorts of shit from Mum and Dad—at least no one heard the pregnant thing, can you imagine—"

"Mrs. Dursley would faint dead-away," Piers nodded. "And your dad… well, he probably wouldn't know what was goin' on—"

Dudley sniggered. "Yeah, probably not. But Piers, I hate Sarah! Because she's _hot _and I'm _horny."_

"You're kinda sounding loony yourself," Piers declared.

"It's Harry, I swear, every time he comes back for the summer all this weird—" Dudley stopped abruptly.

"Huh?" Piers asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nuttin'," Dudley said. "He just makes stuff strange, is all."

Piers shifted. "You know Clarice Ryan?"

"Oh. Yeah?" Dudley asked casually. Clarice was the goody-goody of Privet Drive, the girl he'd always secretly thought was cute, which was odd because she had hardly any tits and wore hair bows and made straight As. Clarice didn't have any friends, but she was on good terms with Carly Conner, and _that _was saying something.

"Well, after you lot sort of ditched me, me and her started hanging out."

Dudley made a face. "_You _hung out with _Clarice?" _For someone hardcore like Piers, who had been second man in Big D's crew, to hang out with Clarice Ryan… It was like exile. "What did you _do with her? _" Dudley hadn't spoken to Clarice much since they were around eight years old, because she hated him with all of her being.

"She's nice, man, she's cool. She totally accepted I'm… well, that I'm the way I am, and we just talked and stuff. Anyway, I told her you're not as bad as she thinks."

"I'm sure she believed you," Dudley rolled his eyes.

"She's willing to hang out with us this coming summer, as long as we don't smoke weed or drink around her. And there's another thing," Piers continued. "You have to leave her brother and his friends alone."

"That's okay," Dudley said. "I think I'm over beating up ten year olds anyway. Even if they _are _stupid."

Piers grinned. "Clarice will think of something to do about Sarah. She's smart, Big D."

"At least somebody is," Dudley declared.

Piers snorted. Dudley laughed. They broke up into guffaws.

Like the old days.

* * *

**AN: **Let me know what you think! 


	17. The White Rabbit

**AN: **Thank you all for everything. With a Dudley fic, it's hard to reach people as easily as with a 'popular character' fic, so I want to let you all know that your reviews, favs, alerts, etc. have really made me feel awesome. I'd also like to thank the LJ community **dietdudleydiet** for being awesome and scary Dursley fans (as all D-fans can be)... They have a lot of insight.

Damn. You guys, the seventh book is out this weekend. I'm going to miss all these people so much. Here's to a wonderful fandom, eh?

**

* * *

**

Chapter Seventeen: The White Rabbit

* * *

"You look _wonderful!" _Petunia exclaimed, jumping out of the car and running at Dudley, wrapping her arms around his neck. He hadn't realized how much he'd actually _missed _her, even if she drove him crazy. Her perfume smelled good and familiar. She pressed her cheek to his and squeezed him. _"Mm, _we _knew _you could do it, Duddy. You look so fit." She patted his firm chest and smiled adoringly.

Vernon grinned from inside the car. "All right, son?"

"Yeah, Dad, all right." Dudley jammed his trunks in the back of the car and snapped it shut. The van still rocked slightly as he got in, but it wasn't as annoying this summer.

"No one in the neighborhood's got a _two time _champion!" Vernon said merrily, starting the engine. "No sir. We're proud of you."

"Oh, we just _are," _Petunia added, turning around and massaging Dudley's knee. "About everything. Your teachers sent us a grade report, and let me tell you, I sent that to everyone we know!" she babbled. "Auntie Marge sent you something as a reward, Dudders, and anytime you like, I'll take you out shopping and we'll get you some nice new things—"

"Proud," added Vernon, and then cursed under his breath as he made a wrong turn.

Dudley actually laughed aloud. "Thanks, Dad!"

"Of course," said Petunia bitterly, "_he's _all ready _here."_

And all at once, the good mood went flat. "Who?" Dudley snapped. "Harry? All _ready? _Harry!?"

He almost felt tears coming to his eyes, tears of frustration. He'd done well in school, he'd gotten rid of his bad friends, he'd manned up and had re-initiated contact with Piers. And when Dennis had been expelled from Smeltings for smuggling in pain killers and marijuana, Malcom and Gordan had stuck back to Dudley's side like brain dead sheep. It had taken almost a week to get rid of them, they kept insisting that they had nothing to do with the retaliation, but Piers and Dudley ignored them until they finally got the message. In short, Dudley felt that he was in a much better place. And now Harry was going to come into the picture and mess everything up, as usual. He just wanted Mum and Dad to himself for awhile! But if _Harry _was there, all weird and creepy, Dudley just knew he was going to want to revert to being a bully. It was what they were used to.

"He's come back early," said Vernon nastily, making a curving turn onto the country road. Dudley couldn't help but notice that the weather all ready looked foreboding. "Honestly, if he could only stay somewhere _else—"_

"Well, he _can't!" _Petunia snapped suddenly.

Dudley stared at her confusedly. _'Why not!?'_

"It will be just fine," Petunia smiled, breathed in, and patted Dudley's leg once more before turning around.

--

Dudley carried one trunk over his shoulder and dragged on behind him. Petunia brandished a duffel and Vernon wheeled Dudley's backpack along up to the house. Petunia unlocked the door, and the family walked in, all obviously alert to the presence of the other person in their home.

"_POTTER!" _shouted Vernon. "_We're back!"_

There was no response. They stood in the hallway, looking up at the stairs almost fearfully. When Harry never appeared, they lugged all of Dudley's belongings back upstairs. He kicked his suitcase over and opened it. Unpacking was always horrendous, but mostly, Mum did it, so he didn't have to worry.

"How about I start on dinner?" Petunia asked nicely with a smile. "I think we can ignore the diet just for tonight, after all, look how well you've done!"

Dudley wasn't one to refuse good food, but still, he felt a little uncomfortable as she walked away. Didn't she understand the seriousness of the planned meals? Still, it wouldn't hurt. Would it?

He crossed the hallway, throwing a glance into "Harry's" room (which was _still _his second bedroom, in his opinion, and always would be). The owl hooted. Dudley had always wanted to pet it, but Petunia said it was full of germs. Besides, he knew Harry didn't want him around his stuff. He'd snooped in the past, but only to learn more about his cousin. It never really worked.

He climbed down the stairs again, amazed at how much easier it was to walk them. When he reached the bottom, he wasn't in a sweat at all, only a little tired. Mum was all ready at work in the kitchen. He grabbed the phone off the receiver and dialed Piers.

"Hey, man."

"Hey, Big D. All ready bored?"

Dudley looked around before saying: "Fuck yeah. Mum's makin' dinner, figure I can leave for awhile, it's too bleeding hot in here."

"Same over here, but we're setting up some fans. Clarice is all ready here."

"Damn, you _are _tight."

"Yeah, we homies."

Dudley and Piers sniggered deeply. "Okay," Dudley said. "I'll be over. If I don't come, then you know…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh fuck!" said Piers. "Sarah! I forgot!"

"_Piers, my God! What did I tell you about using that word?" _came a voice from the background that Dudley supposed belonged to Clarice.

"Are you jokin'?" Dudley asked heavily. "She's offended by swearing?"

"Forgot to mention that," Piers said with a snort.

"I'm screwed."

"Well, it's only a few words… like, the worser ones. She's cool, I promise."

"_I don't bite, Dudley."_

Dudley grinned. "Wouldn't mind if she did," he told Piers, who laughed generously.

"_What? What did he say?" _she demanded.

"Right, mate," Piers said. "We'll send a search party for you if you don't show up."

"Do that."

"Bye."

"Later." He hung up the phone. "Right, so, Mum, I'm going round to Piers' house," Dudley told her. "I'll probably be back like, seven. That okay?"

Petunia turned away from the sink and looked almost comforted, though Dudley had no idea why. "That's perfect, Duddykins. Have fun, sweetheart."

Dudley gave her a wave and headed out the door, shutting it solidly and plodding down the walk. He sighed and wiped his forehead. Across the street, little girls skipped rope in their pajama tops and underwear. A couple of the neighborhood preteens rattled by on bikes, laughing. As Dudley strode past, the boys on bikes stopped and looked him over as though he were a monster.

"_Big D," _one of them said, and they both rode off as fast as they could.

Dudley crossed the street and kept looking back and forth, afraid that Sarah was going to pop in front of him at any given moment. He was afraid that he'd want her again. He was afraid of the feeling he associated with her. His heartbeat quickening, Dudley also quicken his step and basically ran to Piers' house, clutching the front of his sagging shorts so that they wouldn't fall down.

"Safe," Piers announced, standing with the door open, motioning Dudley in.

"Christ, I'm all outta breath," Dudley said, rolling his eyes. Piers walked ahead of him and Dudley followed. He stopped when he saw the blonde girl leaning over the back of Piers' couch.

Piers stood still and cleared his throat. "Okay. Dudley, Clarice. Clarice, Dudley. I know you know each other, but… er… thought we'd straighten that out anyway."

"Hello, Dudley," Clarice said politely, but she was regarding him with almost a cold look. She was wearing a blue sundress that went past her knees, and her wavy hair only just touched her shoulders.

Dudley nodded coolly, towering above both she and Piers. "'sup?"

She looked a little mortified but said nothing about his greeting. "So… it's been quite awhile," Clarice put in, brushing the front of her dress slowly. "Piers says this past school year was rough."

Piers eyed Dudley and shrugged.

"It was… I dunno," Dudley replied. "Not that good. But not bad."

Clarice nodded as though he was from another planet. "Ah."

"You go to Stonewall, then?" he asked.

"Yes, it's mediocre. I'm not the most popular girl there," she said and then twittered uncomfortably. "I mean… I don't really fit in much."

Dudley eyed Piers and shrugged. "Yeah," he said uneasily. _'What the hell am I supposed to say to her? She hates me.'_

Clarice walked around the couch and sat down very primly, folding one leg over the other. "You know, you two could make yourselves much more comfortable."

Dudley shrugged and moved to other side of the coach, being sure to give her a lot of room. Piers perched across from them in his mother's rocking chair with the pink doily on top.

"I know we haven't really talked for awhile, Dudley," Clarice began, turning to face him. Her slightly curly hair bobbed around her neck. "I just wanted to tell you I forgive you for everything."

He made a face. "Oh. Well… I forgive you, too," he told her with a shrug.

Clarice looked confused. "_You? _Forgive _me?"_

"Yeah, I—"

"What did _I _ever do?"

"Uh! I dunno, I just thought… we were forgiving each other—"

"Look, Dursley, I'm not the notorious one here!" Clarice exclaimed. "Piers! Help me!"

Piers shook his head. "Sorry—I don't fancy gettin' in the middle!"

"Well, what did _I _do to _you?" _Dudley grunted, turning back to Clarice.

Clarice's light eyes looked as though they had burst into flames. "What did you do to _me? _Hmm, where shall I _start?!! _Well, first, there was you always pulling my hair in nursery school, and chucking paint at me, and then you used to mess with my things and get mud on my clothes—_then, _you were over for tea once, I didn't invite you, Mum did , and you walked _in on me in the loo!" _

Dudley had forgotten about that. "I didn't mean to," he said dully, trying not to smile.

"You told EVERYONE you were trying to see me NAKED!" Clarice burst out, her face turning pink.

Dudley fought the urge to laugh. "Well, of _course _I did! I was like nine, wasn't I? What else was I supposed to say? Everyone wanted to see people naked, that's how it was—"

Piers looked worried. "Dude, you guys should chill—Clarice, you said—"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAID!" she burst out, "but _Dudley, _you hurt my _feelings! _And then all this business with my brother, I mean, you beat his best friend up as though you were trying to kill him!"

"_Who_?"

"Mark Evans!"

Dudley snickered. "I didn't beat him up hardly t'all! All I did was hit him once—"

Clarice folded her arms across her chest. "Dudley, he was ten. You broke three of his teeth! You know, you're quite a large boy and clobbering a _ten year old _isn't like clobbering a fellow _large boy!"_

"He was saying shit about me—"

"Might I remind you that _he was ten? _That's all ten year olds do! But do we take them seriously? NO! Because they are _ten! _I mean, you just said when you were nine, you lied about seeing me naked! What if someone had beat you up for it?"

Dudley stared at her, looking somewhere between amused and horrified. He just hoped she'd never find out that he sold her brother drugs last summer. "I didn't know it mattered that much—"

"Beating up little kids is mean," Clarice said stuffily.

Suddenly, feeling a need to make himself seem better, Dudley sat up straighter and pointed a finger at Polkiss. "Oi! Piers helped, too, he held 'em down—"

"Oh, I've all _ready _spoken to him," she said crisply.

Piers nodded reluctantly. "But see, we need your help, Clarice. We ain't trying to be like that as much anymore—"

"As much?" she barked. "Try at ALL!"

"Right, at all," Piers said weakly. "So you'll help us, then?"

Clarice smoothed her dress again; it was apparent that they made her nervous—Dudley wondered if only _he _made her nervous. "I think it's admirable you want to change." She looked up at them. "Especially you, Dudley. I mean, ever since I've known you, you've been quite a jerk. And really, you're like, ten kinds of gross."

"_What?" _Dudley demanded. "Me?" He lifted up his arm and smelled himself. "I don't stink! I took like, two showers _all _ready!" His voice got louder and deeper as he went. "I shaved. I smell good, too—I'm wearing cologne, I _always _do—"

Clarice giggled. "No, you _are _well groomed for being who you are, that's not what I meant."

"I'm _gross?" _

"He's _gross?" _Piers asked loudly.

"Piers, you're a very _biased _opinion, aren't you?" Clarice said with a laugh, and Piers immediately went stony. "Yes, _Dursley, _you're a very gross boy! Until recently, it was weird to see you walking down the street _without _eating something, like a _slob, _too. I've seen you…" She lowered her voice: "_Pee _in my yard more than _once."_

Dudley gave a short laugh. "No fucking way—" he said slowly—"that was _your _yard? I thought—"

Piers hooted with laughter, slapping the arm of the chair.

Clarice wrinkled her nose. "Normal people don't just _pee _in yards!"

"I thought it was Josh's yard!" he told her.

"I don't care!"

"I was drunk!" he said.

"So?"

"I had to piss!" he insisted.

"_You. Are. __**Gross**__,"_ she said firmly. "Don't you see the type of people it's attracted? Besides Piers, I mean, but you two have been mates since forever… but _think, _Dudley. For two years now, you've been hanging with the meanest lot ever, with the slaggiest girls in Surrey trailing behind you—"

"What's a matter wiv' slags?" Dudley asked.

Clarice shook her head. "_Dudley. _They _aren't _nice girls!"

"Well, they're hot! And you wouldn't know it, 'cause you _are _a girl!" Dudley said loudly.

"Gross or not, you deserve better than spooky Sarah Cleelvans," she said flatly.

Dudley jumped at the name. "So, Piers told you."

"Yes," Clarice nodded. "And let me tell _you, _I really do feel sorry for you—"

"Don't," grunted Dudley," please don't feel sorry for me."

Clarice and Piers looked at each other strangely. "Well, _okay," _Clarice said slowly. "But I was _just _going to say that I've been in school with Sarah more than you have—I had physical education with her grade when I was thirteen and she was twelve. She was all ready pretty terrible back then; she always lied and said she had her period so she didn't have to run—"

"Argh!" Dudley exclaimed. Piers' facial expression made the same statement. "She didn't seem so crazy at first—"

"Oh, she's not _just _crazy," Clarice said, looking almost-dangerous. "She's brilliant."

"Yeah. Yeah, I've noticed," Dudley said and swallowed hard.

"You need to pull yourself together!" she said suddenly, sitting up and facing him. "She's going to feed on you if you keep mulling about, thinking about her—she'll see you fancy her and then she'll just keep it up—"

"I **don't **_fancy _her," Dudley snapped. "I just think she was a good screw. But I'd probably take just about any girl right now."

Piers looked at Clarice.

"That's nice," she said back coolly. "Anyway, if you want my help, you'll have to listen. You'll have to tell her to her face to leave you alone—"

"I _did—"_

"How?" Clarice asked.

"I… uh…" Dudley shrugged. "I told her to leave me alone. But with, ah, more cussing. And mean sorts of words. Plus, I might've pushed her."

Piers was listening so intently, he was in danger of toppling over.

Clarice shook her head _again. _"Honestly, don't you _see? _That's what she wants. She obviously likes mean, _gross _blokes because she chose you," she said bluntly," and she probably thinks that the more you mistreat her, the more you like her."

"I'm not—" Dudley began, but she held up her hand.

"Furthermore, you _are _attracted to her still."

"Not—"

"Dursley, it's obvious even now. It shows. You're nervous… You keep swinging your left foot, did you notice?"

Dudley looked down. Sure enough, he'd been tapping his foot against the bottom of the couch. He quickly planted it firmly on the ground. "Well, I—"

"_Girls pick up on that! _You might not fancy her, but you want to bonk her silly! And she's going to notice that, and think you fancy her! And your summer will come crashing down!" Clarice exclaimed.

Piers and Dudley eyed each other.

"Bonk her silly," said Dudley.

"Bonk her silly!" repeated Piers.

They burst into laughter.

"Oh lord," said Clarice.

A few minutes later, they put on the television and watched a little bit of a drama that Dudley had never seen. Apparently, Clarice had, because she kept putting her hand over her heart, and protesting when two characters (she apparently did not like) kissed. Like a spasm, Dudley suddenly got the urge to put his arm around her shoulder. He wondered if this was normal, and tried to push it out of his mind. He definitely didn't need a girlfriend. Ever again.

--

"Yeah, see you tomorrow then," Dudley was saying gruffly, as Clarice waved to them from the sidewalk.

The bows in her hair didn't look quite so dumb anymore. "Have a good night, you two!" she said. "Laters!"

"Laters," said Piers. "Nice, isn't she?" he asked Dudley, as soon as Clarice was half-way down the street.

Dudley tore his eyes away from her ass. "She's okay. You think she hates me?"

"Naw, dude. She's just, I dunno. Scared of you, or something. Not any more than everyone else here. I mean… She doesn't know what to think of you. Why you think she hates you?"

"She was kinda mean," he shrugged.

Piers grinned. "She says it like it is. Well…" he paused. "I mean, I don't think you're gross, mate—"

"Yeah, well, thanks." Dudley cleared his throat and spat into the grass.

They laughed.

"You realize we just watched tele together?" Piers asked quietly.

"Huh? Yeah," Dudley said. "So what?"

"We weren't toking, Dud."

Dudley raised his eyebrows, amazed. "You're right. That's the first time we've watched tele without bud in like, forever."

"I liked it," Piers said, kicking a stone. "I wasn't rolling around laughing like a dumb fuck."

Dudley grinned.

"Plus, I've still got food left—"

"What!?"

"Dude, you know how to slam it in when you're blazed, even worse than usual—"

"Yeah, haha, you're right," Dudley laughed. "Yeah, that's pretty… weird. I mean… We kind of acted normal."

"Kind of," Piers grinned back. "Later, Dud. See you tomorrow—"

"Yeah, bye." Dudley hummed to himself and walked back across the lane to Number Four. The heat didn't seem quite so bad to him. As soon as he approached the house, however, he stopped.

There was his cousin Harry, sitting on the yard bench, looking transfixed. Dudley could see a visible change in Harry all ready—not just looks, but the way he was sitting was kind of severe, as though he was really angry—wait, no… Dudley stared at him. More like _sad. _He was running one hand over the arm of the bench, and never moving his eyes. Dudley looked in the same direction they were looking. There was nothing there. He even squinted. Nothing. He looked back at Harry.

"No, I'm not a figment of your imagination," Harry said frostily, without moving his eyes or turning his head.

Dudley's body immediately tensed up at the sound of his voice. "_All right, _Potter?" he said densely.

"That's my name. Congrats to you for retaining the information, Big D. Honestly, after last summer, I was worried for you—"

"Shut up—"

"Oh, don't worry," Harry went on, "because that's all I've got to say. I've got a proposal for you, Duds. All this summer, I don't want you talking to me. I don't want you trying to irritate me, I don't want you sharing more of your life with me, and I definitely don't want you around me. In turn, I won't speak to you. And I won't look at you. Agreed?"

Dudley looked at him in shock. "You what?"

"I—DON'T—WANT—TO—TALK—TO—YOU!" Harry shouted angrily, in an exaggeratedly slow voice. "YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

"I'm NOT STUPID!" Dudley shouted back, clenching his teeth.

"Well, that's news to me!"

"What's your fucking problem, Potter?" Dudley asked evenly, trying to keep his cool. "You have someone _else _die on you? Or are you still all depressed about _Cedric?" _He made sure to make _Cedric _as long and drawn-out as possible.

Harry drew in a breath. "You don't know anything," he replied, " you don't know _anything—_you don't _feel _anything—you don't KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE! And I _don't _want to hear your voice, so just LEAVE ME ALONE, DUDLEY!" He jumped off the bench and walked away hurriedly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

'_I wonder if he __**did **__have someone else die,' _Dudley thought suddenly, and then realized that this was a stupid idea. _'He doesn't want us to talk. Good for him. I don't want to talk to him, either. I'll have a way better time without him always in the way.' _He shuffled across the grass and into the house.

"There's my Duddydums," Mum said happily. "You're just in time, sweetie, I've cooked your favorite—"

"Oh _no, _you haven't! You serious?" Dudley asked, a little more excitedly than he'd meant to. But _yes, _she had. He could smell it from the hallway. He came into the kitchen and breathed in, all his previous thoughts relating to his progressing diet fading fast. "Steak and kidney_?" _he asked, heading to the stove and looking at the fat, crumbling pie, a flaky brown crust, with gravy pouring out of the sides all ready. "Oh, you're _not _serious—"

Mrs. Dursley clapped excitedly. "I _knew _you'd like it—"

"Thank God for real food!" Vernon muttered from behind his paper at the table.

Dudley was all ready grabbing a fork out of the drawer and taking a hunk out of the pie though it was still steaming hot. He blew on it for a few seconds and stuffed it into his mouth. "Ah, Mum, dat's goot," he said thickly, wiping his mouth.

"That's what I like to hear. Those stupid people at Smeltings, poisoning my baby," she said, pinching his cheek softly and smiling. She opened the oven and took out a heating pot, lifting the lid as she set it on the stove.

"Mashers, too?" Dudley asked with a grin.

"Of course!" Petunia warbled. "I know what you like."

"Where _is _that Potter?" Vernon asked gruffly, setting down the newspaper as Petunia began to serve them.

Dudley took a seat near the window. "He's being a weirdo like always 'n stormed off." He wasn't about to say the words that had passed between them. This was between he and his cousin.

"Don't let him worry you," Petunia said gently, rubbing his shoulder and setting a plate in front of him.

At once, Dudley began to eat, taking a forkful of pie with an even bigger glop of mashers. As soon as Petunia put the gravy on the table, he reached for it and dowsed his food in it, shoveling it in. He'd forgotten how great all of this tasted. The steak _melted _in his mouth. Mum had cooked it just right. The thick gravy oozed out of the meat pie decadently.

"Ruddy boy, making trouble all the time, I swear, if he ends up like that crazed godfather of his, I won't be surprised—"

Dudley ignored them, he didn't want to hear them; their voices became a drone as he ate and ate. He wondered how he could have ever been eating that disgusting diet food. As soon as he had cleared his plate, he figured it wouldn't hurt to have a second helping. And then more.

Soon, there was no gravy to be reckoned with.

--

A few hours later, Dudley lay in bed, clutching his stomach and groaning. His sweltering room made his pain feel all the worse. Being on such a strict diet had really fucked with his system. He hadn't felt like this in years. Sweat pooled at the back of his neck.

Around eleven, the door downstairs opened and slammed shut.

"AND WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'VE BEEN?" shouted Dad. "ANSWER ME."

There were pounding footsteps on the stairs and Harry, Dudley supposed, ran into his room and shut the door. The locked clicked shut, and Dudley heard the sound of Harry kicking his belongings.

He would have laughed any other time. But this just wasn't funny anymore.

--

"Morning, sweetums," greeted Petunia, sitting at the breakfast bar and flipping through what Dudley figured was a family living magazine.

"Hey Mum," Dudley grunted sleepily. He'd been up until four AM with his horrific stomach, plus Harry had all ready started those wacky nightmares again. This time, his words were indistinguishable, though. He'd just basically screamed for two hours straight.

"There's bacon in the pan," she said with a smile.

"Oh." Dudley could smell it; the woody, savory, brown-sugar aroma floated to his nostrils, but he figured he'd better not. _'You could, though,' _he told himself. "Naw, I'm really not hungry yet," he said.

He heard a chortle, and looked over to the table. There was Harry, staring at his breakfast plate and eating as though he'd never made a sound.

Dudley glowered but said nothing to his cousin, instead, walking around to the other side of the island and looking over his mother's shoulder, hugging her around the neck. "What you looking at, Mum?"

"Oh, just some new recipes. They keep saying fish is good for you, but I just _can't _figure how to cook it without making the house smell awful for weeks." She kissed his cheek. "How was _school, _Dinkums, you never did go into it."

"Fine," Dudley shrugged. "I mean, boring. But okay."

"Your father's fixing to build you a shelf in your room for all of your new awards. At this rate, you'll win next year's tournament, too—"

"Maybe, yeah," grinned Dudley. That'd show the blokes at school. He wondered what Colin Bard would say _then. _

"I love you _so much," _Petunia said. She looked over at Harry, who was still fully engrossed in whatever thoughts he had. "And I'm so happy you're better," she whispered.

"Love you, too, Mum, me too," he said.

Harry got up immediately and rinsed off his plate, tossing it into the sink and walking out of the room, giving them an irate look as he went.

--

"You want one, Clarice?" Dudley grinned, as he and Piers lit up cigarettes. The three of them were standing in a straight line off Magnolia Crescent, in plain view of Privet Park. Dudley was in the middle, as though the two skinnier, shorter people were his bodyguards.

"No, thank you," she said primly, making a face.

"Come on now," he said, pretending to poke it at her.

"_Dudley," _she glared. "No."

He and Piers burst out laughing.

"Yes, you're hilarious," she said, but smiled, showing dimples.

Dudley stared at her for a second and abruptly stopped laughing, getting a weird feeling in his chest like a flutter. He ignored it and exhaled deeply. "So… tell me what I'm supposed to do again."

"What you're supposed to do?" asked Clarice confusedly.

"Yeah, if Sarah comes by," Piers explained.

"Yeah," Dudley echoed.

"Oh! Right," Clarice nodded. "Well, you just have to tell her what you feel."

Dudley sniggered.

"Well… what you _think, _then," she corrected. "Just go straight up to her. Say you'd rather not be bothered with her and leave her be."

"What if she goes all mad on me, though?" Dudley inquired.

"Yeah, like, crazy?" Piers asked.

"Don't know _what _to say for that," Clarice shrugged sadly. "You're the one who went with her, so maybe you deserve it."

"That's a bit harsh, do you think?" Dudley grinned, flicking ash.

"Not at all."

"Right."

The three of them stood in silence, until Piers gasped.

"There she is!" he called out.

In a sudden bustle, he and Piers backed up a ducked behind a tree.

Clarice stood still, blinking. "Isn't that Melanie, though?"

Dudley peered out from behind the tree. "Oh. Oh yeah." He hit Piers on the shoulder. "Well spotted."

"Well, maybe it's best I hide from her anyway," he said darkly.

"Oh yeah. Does she know you a knob-rider?" Dudley asked, coming back out to stand by Clarice.

"_DUDLEY!" _she exclaimed.

Piers laughed. "I'sokay." He turned back to the blond boy. "Well, I didn't tell her. But I reckon she dumped me for a reason and I don't want to know what it was."

"Probably 'cause she a whore," Dudley chortled.

"Dudley!" Clarice warned.

"Come on, lighten up," he said casually, shoving her lightly against the shoulder.

She smirked at him and folded her arms.

'_Dude, quit touching her,' _he told himself. He really wondered what was wrong, and figured that all-boy's school was bad for his brain.

As soon as Melanie walked in front of them, they all fell stony and silent. She paid them no attention and walked past, strutting in too-high heels.

Piers let out a breath, but then: "Oh God, Sarah!"

Dudley moved behind the tree again.

"Piers, that is my _brother," _Clarice told him crisply. "Cam! Oi! Over here!"

After hitting Piers again, Dudley strode out and looked down the lane. Mark Evans and Cam were walking toward Clarice, until they looked and saw _him_. They exchanged words and took off in the opposite direction.

Dudley had a sinking feeling. Clarice said nothing, so she must have known that he was the reason for the boys' quick flight.

"WAIT—here's Sarah!" Piers shouted out.

Dudley looked first this time. "Dude. _Piers. _Do you even _remember _how Sarah looks? That's my cousin."

Clarice burst out laughing.

Piers reddened. "I'm being extra-cautious is all."

"Hi, Harry!" greeted Clarice with a wave.

"NO!" Dudley hissed. "Don't wave to _him!"_

"Well, why not?" she asked indignantly.

Piers put out his cigarette. "Because he's Harry!"

"So? Don't tell me I shouldn't talk to you just because you're _Piers. _" Clarice said, with an odd expression. "_Hey, Harry!"_

Dudley and Piers frowned at each other. "No, no, man," Dudley said," you don't get it—he's my cousin—"

"Yes, Dudley, I went to school with you both for eleven years. No offense or anything, but I obviously have a better memory than—"

"No, _I know you know him! _Just don't—"

"Shit, he's coming over here," Piers sighed, still behind the tree. Dudley leaned against it and tried to put on his most deathly glare, sucking on his cigarette like a pacifier.

Harry walked up slowly and regarded Clarice with a tired interest. "You waved me over?" he asked flatly.

"I haven't seen you in ages, Harry, this is my first time out of the house in ages," Clarice said. "Usually I just play piano—"

"That's great," Harry nodded, as though he didn't care in the least.

"You don't remember me, do you? I went to school with you and Dudley," she said pleasantly.

Harry nodded," Yeah, well, I've tried to push as many memories from this place to the back of my mind—"

"You and I weren't _friends_," Clarice went on, obviously unaffected by rudeness," but we _did _get along. I mean, we used to play in the little fake house together in nursery school, remember? I always tried to be the older sister but ended up having to be Mum, and Dudley never wanted to play but still told everyone you had to be the pet!"

Dudley and Piers snickered. "I did that?" Dudley asked.

Harry's attention went from Clarice to the tree in a swoop. His expression grew even darker upon laying eyes on both Dudley and Piers.

Piers sneered. "Hiya, Harry."

"Shut up," Dudley told him quietly.

Harry's expression was almost dead. "Long time, no talk, Polkiss. I see you haven't changed a bit."

"You either," Piers snorted.

"Boys," Clarice said, sensing the gloom.

"Tell me, then, why are you two waiting out here? Going to kick some ten-year-old ass?"

Dudley wanted to say something, but he remembered that they'd agreed never to talk to each other again. But Harry was sort of breeching the contract.

However, Clarice shook her head. "They most certainly are _not."_

"Sorry," Harry said dryly," but I don't understand. Why are _you_ hanging out with _them?"_

"We're trying to re—" Piers began. "Reforge?"

"We're _wha'?" _Dudley asked loudly, blowing out smoke.

Harry and Clarice looked at each other blankly.

"Re-FORM!" Piers shouted out with a grin, glad he'd found the word. "We're trying to _reform!"_

Harry actually flashed a smile before making his face into a frown again. "Good job, Polkiss. Anyway, how does reforming involve looking like you're involved in a secret mission?"

Dudley looked around. Harry was right. Clarice was standing in front while Piers was still peering out from behind the tree. Dudley was leaning against it. They looked very suspicious.

"Oh, hasn't Dudley told you?" Clarice asked.

"No," said Harry shortly," he doesn't tell me anything," which Dudley thought was quite unfair, given the circumstances.

"We're waiting for Sa—"

"No!" Dudley put in. "He doesn't need to know!"

Harry looked curious. "You're waiting for _who?"_

"What's your problem, Dudley?" Clarice asked. "We're waiting for Sarah. Do you know her?"

Harry's dead expression turned into one of uttermost intrigue. He smiled meanly. "Yeah," he said, looking at Dudley," I know her. Better than most people on this block. So, Dud, are you two just the _happiest _couple now? Sorted out _all _your _problems? _" He looked even wilder: "Did you _reform _for _Sarah? _I thought she liked assholes—she might be disappointed--_"_

Finally, Dudley couldn't take it anymore. He had to talk. "No," he said stuffily, dropping his cigarette butt on the ground and mashing it with his trainer.

"Well…?"

"Why should I _tell _you?" Dudley asked loudly. "You're just going to make fun of me!"

"Harry wouldn't do that," Clarice said. "Would you, Harry?"

Potter looked uncomfortable; Clarice seemed to have that effect on everyone. "I… guess not."

"Good!" she said cheerfully. "Dudley is going to tell Sarah to leave him alone, because she's stalking him—"

"She told him she was pregnant and she wasn't and how much she loves him," Piers put in energetically.

"STOP! THAT'S MY PERSONAL LIFE!" Dudley cried out, shaking his fists.

Harry looked amused. "She said she was pregnant?"

"Yeah—" Dudley began.

"Did you totally go insane, Dud?"

"_Yeah—" _Dudley began again.

"Serves you right, you bastard! You treated her horribly!" Harry snarled.

"He did?" Clarice demanded. "Dudley!"

"No, he didn't!" Piers said defiantly. "She was _a nutter!"_

Subconsciously, Dudley moved back away from Clarice and Harry, and closer to Piers.

"You deserve a serious lashing, Dudley," Harry said.

"I GOT ONE ALL READY! She was all like, slapping me and stuff, plus she like… I don't know." He reddened furiously. "Never mind, but anyway, they say I hafta tell her to leave me alone."

"Aw, does ickle Duddykins have a _stalker?" _Harry chortled. "That's _rich!"_

"SHUT IT!"

"Does Aunt Petunia know about Sarah yet? And that you have a _staaaalker?" _Harry wanted to know.

"No way!" Dudley shook his head. "She knows I had a girlfriend, but she don't know how serious—she don't know about me and Sarah being serious--"

"Good," said Harry seriously. "It's best she doesn't know you've been cheating on her."

Clarice's and Piers' eyes widened. They started cracking up and Harry joined in.

"That wasn't funny," Dudley said.

"Why, 'cause you couldn't understand it?" Harry asked sharply, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, now _that's _not _nice!" _Clarice said, shaking her head. "How can you two treat each other like this? It's _disgusting! _I mean, you were pretty bad when we were kids but this is so _stupid—_you're old now!"

"Tell that to _him_," Harry said.

"Harry," Clarice said calmly," not that I'm siding with any of you, because quite frankly, you all disturb me in different ways, but Dudley hadn't really said _anything _to you to make you mock him—"

"You don't understand," Harry told her, shaking his head," it's so much deeper than this—"

"If you two are going hang out together in my presence, you need to be nice!" she fired back.

"Who said anything about us hanging out together?" Harry asked sharply. "Sorry to disappoint you, but I was just passing through." He immediately turned away from them and started to walk back to Privet Drive. "Oh, and by the way, Sarah's at the corner store off Madison Street."

"See," Piers said. "Harry's a weirdo."

"Harry's just sad," Clarice put in.

"He is?" Piers asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" she wanted to know. "I hope he feels better soon."

Dudley said nothing, but observed the way Harry was walking along, kicking up dust. He wondered what Harry could be sad about.

--

All through dinner, Dudley kept stealing glances at Harry. Not much was said; everyone seemed fairly put out. Vernon had only made twenty sales that day, and was used to putting in at least seventy, which he kept repeating. "At least seventy, I say!" he'd remark, and take another bite of brussel sprouts. Dudley would try to ignore it, and then Vernon would say "Twenty! Imagine!" and go back to eating. It got to the point where it was beyond annoying; it was all Dudley could do to stop from accidentally laughing.

Petunia was angry because Mrs. Next-Door had closed all of her drapes and blinds, making it impossible to see the daughter who had just returned for a visit with her baby. "I only saw it once, and it was _ugly," _Petunia said sourly, but Dudley knew she was only saying that because she hadn't gotten a good look.

Harry was no different than usual, and Dudley was actually in a good mood, and therefore felt severely out of place. When Harry's fork made a scraping sound against his plate, Mum declared," You must be finished," and snatched it away, putting it in the sink. Harry said nothing and walked back upstairs.

Dudley look from Mum to Dad, and wondered if they were confused about Harry's mood, too.

"Well, how was _your _day, Dudley?" asked Mum finally, pasting on a smile.

"Good," he said. "Just chilled." He, Piers and Clarice had made it through the day without spotting Sarah, and then had returned to Piers' house, where they'd watched a movie. He considered getting seconds, but reminded himself of how sick he'd felt the night before.

"That's nice."

"Twenty!" Vernon declared, shaking his head.

Dudley got up and walked upstairs. He slowed down even more when he reached Harry's bedroom. The door was closed. He casually looked over the railing, where Mum and Dad were still eating dinner. Tentatively, he knocked on the door.

"What?" asked Harry glumly, his voice muffled.

"Let me come in," Dudley said.

"I told you to leave me alone."

Dudley grabbed the door handle and twisted. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. Slowly, he shuffled in.

Harry was lying facedown on his bed with his head in the pillow. "Go away, Dudley," he said gruffly.

"Is there something…" Dudley trailed off, walking in further and shutting the door. Hedwig hooted and he stepped back. "Is there something the matter?"

"Dudley, I'm only going to say this once more. Leave me alone, or I'll hex you."

"You can't," Dudley said simply, eying Harry's trunks in interest. "Just tell me what's the matter, then I'll leave."

"What would happen if you didn't get your way?" Harry asked, sitting up, his face sort of blotchy from lying on the pillow.

"I—" Dudley paused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if I didn't want to tell you?"

"I don't know, Harry," Dudley replied, feeling his cheeks redden. _'Why am I even here?' _"Look, was what I said… true?"

"Was what you said true?" Harry asked with a sigh, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Y'know, Cedric? You still all depressed about Cedric?" Dudley tried very hard to sound understanding.

"No. I mean, I still feel bad but now I have other things to worry about." Harry sighed again and turned away. "Dudley, you wouldn't get it."

Dudley took in a deep breath and shook his head. "I may be like… slower than you sometimes, or whatever, but that don't mean I'm a fucking dumb ass. I can understand you perfectly, Harry. Sometimes I just pretend not to hear. And sometimes I _don't _hear so I _do _sound stupid! And _sometimes, _I _don't get it. _But that still don't mean I _won't get it," _he said solidly, staring down at his cousin and sticking his hands in his pockets. He recalled the letter he'd read of Harry's so very long ago. "I'm not just a pig, Harry. I'm not just fat and stupid, I'm not." He realized he was speaking very earnestly, and that his heart was pounding in his chest. These were words he'd been wanting to say for years.

Harry slowly turned around to face him. "Dudley. I don't think you're _just _fat and stupid—"

"Yes, you do—'sall you _ever _go on about. _Whale _this, and that, I have mirrors, I can _see—" _Dudley grunted; he was shaking fully now—he hadn't expected this.

"Dudley, I had no idea—"

"That you were making me feel bad?" Dudley demanded hotly.

"Dudley," Harry repeated, sitting up even more, and looking solemn," you made _me _feel bad for _years—_you still do, always bringing up my mum and dad being gone, and saying _horrible _shit to me, and being _so spoiled—"_

"Well, I didn't know what else to do!" Dudley burst out. "You just showed up here, and I was the only kid! I was the only kid, and you showed up, and every year, it was like… Harry was _so _bad and horrible, _you got all this attention—"_

"And you _didn't?" _Harry snapped.

"Well—"

"You have gotten more attention than any one person I've met in my entire life. Every little thing you do, your parents reward you—"

"That's _not _true," Dudley said.

"Don't act like you're innocent! I can't _believe _this! You have made my life _hell—"_

"You, too, Harry!"

"That's not even fair to say—I never beat YOU up. I never waited outside for YOU to be done with class so I could throw YOUR schoolbooks into the GARBAGE and I never ripped up YOUR homework and I never told _my _friends lies about YOU and I never, ever ate more food just because YOU couldn't have any!"

Dudley blinked. _'When you combine it all together it does sound a bit bad,' _he thought. "I don't do that anymore," he said loudly.

"Because you're scared I'll do something back," Harry stated coolly.

"At—" Dudley paused. "At first, yeah, but now… now, I don't want to—"

"Since when? Because last summer, as I remember, and you can correct me if I'm wrong, it was the same old thing—"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY TO YOU BESIDES BAD STUFF!" Dudley called out, exasperated. "You make me like… _really pissed off! _But right now, I just want to know what's the matter, I swear I'll leave—" This conversation was taking a lot of his energy away.

"You're just going to mock me."

"Who says?"

"Past experiences, Dudley. You just want to know everything about me, but what does that give me? You all ready know quite enough, thank you very much. Can you leave my room?" He smirked. "Oh, whoops, not _my _room. Your second bedroom. How stupid of me to call it _mine._"

The point was taken, and Dudley recalled yesterday, when he'd thought of the room in that very same fashion. His cheeks turned an even brighter shade of pink and he trudged out. _'Harry is hard to get along with,' _he thought, and then, _'so am I.'_

* * *


	18. Girl in a Blue Pinafore

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* * *

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**Chapter Eighteen: Girl in a Blue Pinafore**

* * *

_"That bitch was fly—that bitch was hard—that bitch had style—the bitch drove you, she drove you, she drove you to da edge—she used—she used—she used—dem nails—that bitch—that bitch—was hard."_

Dudley rapped his old Smeltings stick against the wall to the heavy beat of the rap. He was leaning up against his pillows with the lights out, afraid to venture outside because of the weather. In contrast to the weather the past week, there were grey clouds and mist hanging around over Little Whinging. He'd gone out to get the mail for Dad and had felt as though something cold had seized him, almost like when that Dementor had attacked. He felt like a dunderhead for being made to feel uneasy by _weather, _but a feeling was a feeling. Besides, Piers' mother had taken him off to get new school clothes, since she'd be on a business trip to France in a few weeks. ("Business trip my ass," Piers had snorted begrudgingly over the phone.) Dudley had no one else to see; he figured it would be rather awkward to try and hang out with Clarice without Piers, so he decided against leaving the house. After all, if he _did _see Sarah, he definitely didn't want to be alone.

_"That bitch choked like hell when you put it in the mouth—"_

Dudley heard Harry's exasperated voice from the other side of the wall: "Be who you want, Dudley, but for God's sake, can you turn that nasty racket _down?"_

Dudley wiggled his toe across the bed, attempting to get the remote to his CD player with his foot without having to get up. He and Harry hadn't spoken since last night's argument; they only exchanged nods of recognition at breakfast. Dudley wanted to be _all right _with Harry, but he by no means wanted to be all friendly and sappy.

"Say please," he said lazily.

_"That bitch was fly—"_

Harry groaned. "Are you thirteen?"

Dudley kept kicking at the remote. "Naw, I'm sixteen. Now say please."

"Please," Harry said darkly.

Dudley chuckled, finally succeeding in kicking himself the remote. "Say _please Big D."_

"PLEASE BIG D!" Harry basically shouted.

"That's good," Dudley nodded, and turned the music down a few notches.

"Foul," Harry replied. It was hard to tell if he was smiling as he said it or not.

--

"You're okay," Piers insisted.

Dudley wasn't so sure. They were standing in front of Number One, Clarice's house, which was very neat and tidy, and therefore never was brought into conversation in the Dursley home. The Ryans lived a quiet life, unlike the Georges across the way, who had gnarled, almost gray grass, which meant to Dad that they were very evil people. ("Satan-lovers, the lot of 'em!")

"Mrs. Ryan's in there," Dudley said," and you heard Clarice… I used to beat up her brother and his friends. _We _used to!"

"Yeah, don't think her mum knows, mate, 'cause I've been over to get her before and she didn't say nothing," Piers explained. "Besides, she used to invite us for tea. So chill."

"You sure?" Dudley demanded.

"Pretty sure," Piers nodded, and rang the doorbell. "Almost sixty-percent, at least."

"Sixty _per--?" _Dudley burst out, but it was too late. The door swung open.

"Ah," said Mrs. Ryan, who was an attractive brunette, not astonishing in any way," hello boys. How are you?"

The smell of Clarice's house was like sweet bread.

A million memories rushed back to Dudley in one instant with Mrs. Ryan's sad, calming tone. Dollies, cake batter? A sunny day, chocolately, sticky hands? The thrill of getting messy? Clarice's ringlets—baby Cam crying? He'd only come over to "play" a handful of times, but it was definitely a strange feeling to have.

"Just fine, Mrs. Ryan," said Piers.

Dudley nodded, looking around, wanting to gather as many recollections as he could. He wanted to remember, he wanted to find evidence for what Figg had said about him holding his cousin's hand, he wanted to know if he'd always been mean and rude, he wanted to recall what life had been like before he'd had time to be impressionable.

"I haven't seen you in ages, Dudley," smiled Mrs. Ryan almost miserably leaning against the sink and holding a cup of coffee, sipping it delicately. "A lot taller than you used to be," she said with a slight upturn of her lips, as she gazed above her to take in all six feet and two inches of him, his hulking shoulders casting a square shadow on the floor.

'_Just taller? Not wider?' _wondered Dudley, but figured that she was just thinking that, and wouldn't dare say it. "Did I…" he began slowly and steadily…" used to come over here a lot?"

"No," she said, eying him," only two or three times, and when you did, you made sure to give Clarice a hard time." She chortled. "Anyone who says boys and girls are the same at that age is barmey as the day is long. You could only tolerate each other for five seconds—I think Petunia was wary to let you leave your house, anyway."

'_Probably,' _Dudley thought bitterly. "So Clarice and me, were we like… ever mates, or something?" Dudley remembered playing with Piers in the sandbox, but he couldn't remember much of anyone else hanging around him.

"Well," paused Mrs. Ryan," You had very different interests. I think you were always a little rambunctious for her, no matter _what _your mum says. I think my Clarice was too boring for you—she's too boring for a lot of people."

Dudley wondered if Clarice's mum was making a joke. "I never ah—thought that," he said earnestly.

"That shows something," said Mrs. Ryan, blowing on her coffee and taking another sip.

Dudley was about to ask what she meant when Clarice pounded down the stairway and came into the kitchen. "Hey, lot, all right?" She was in another blue sundress, her hair clipped back by white barrettes, her bare legs slightly tanned. Dudley stared, and felt it hard to breathe.

"Yeah," nodded Piers. "You?"

"Good, thanks. All right, Dudley?"

He swallowed hastily. "Yea', all right," he nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"They're nice boys, Clarice," Mrs. Ryan said," I'm so glad you all are friends again." With that, she walked slowly out of the room. She was wearing house slippers.

Clarice smiled in what Dudley thought was a sad way. "Obviously, Mum's a bit mental."

Dudley wasn't sure if this was meant to be a joke about Mrs. Ryan misjudging he and Piers' character, or if Mrs. Ryan truly _was _mental. She _had _seemed a bit gaunt. But at least she had spoken to him like he was his age, unlike Mum. Dudley wished she'd had said more about him as a kid; he'd have to find other sources.

"Mummy, I can't find my bike lock!" came a high, squeaky voice from the stairwell, and Clarice's little brother Cam jumped down the last three stairs. He landed with a thump, holding out his hands and grinning. Dudley realized just how young Cam really was, and he felt pained that just last summer, he'd found it an amusing high to beat the snot out of kids around his age. Just then, the eleven year old looked up and his face grew fearful. He looked at Piers, and then at Dudley, backing up against the wall. "Clarice—" he said in a gasp. "What are _they _doing here?"

"Cameron," Clarice said sharply," it's okay."

Cam didn't look so sure. He'd never acted so scared out in the park with his friends; he obviously must have figured Dudley and Piers were at his house for a specific reason.

"I didn't say anything!" he pleaded. "I didn't, Big D— Mu—"

"Cam, it's all right. Dudley's promised me he won't hurt you _or _your mates. Haven't you, Dudley?" she asked with her blue eyes shining.

If Dudley had had any thoughts of beating kids up this summer, they were all erased as he nodded rapidly. He had an odd feeling that he wanted to look good all of a sudden.

"It's a trick, Claire, don't listen!" the boy said with wide eyes.

"She ain't lyin'," Dudley said thickly, wondering if he was only trying to impress Clarice. He didn't care, and kept talking. "We won't bother you, okay?" The more he said, the more it seemed right. Fighting only seemed proper for the boxing ring now. After all, you didn't win awards for hitting eleven year old boys near the swing set in the park.

Cam blinked. "Uh—thought you was all still mad about Mark calling you fat last year—"

"I _am _fat," Dudley said with a shrug. "Which doesn't mean I really love people talkin' about it all the time, but still… I don't want to cause no trouble, I guess." He reddened at the embarrassing honesty he'd just expressed.

Clarice even looked surprised, but nodded briskly. "See, Cam? Just tell your friends to keep their mouths shut, eh? Mum didn't raise us to say such awful things, and I won't pound your head in for it, but I sure won't let you get away with it--"

Cam nodded, licking his lips. "O—okay, I'll tell 'em--- th-thanks, Big D—"

"It's Dudley," Clarice corrected.

"Naw," interjected Dudley with a hint of a grin. "Big D's all good wiv' me."

At this, Cam raised his chin up and became the kid from the park Dudley knew. "See, Claire? I _know _D. I know D!" he said proudly and, smiling from ear to ear, he ran out of the kitchen into the hallway.

The three sixteen year olds were quiet for a second.

Then Piers gave a laugh. "Your bro's weird, Clarice."

She snorted. "Tell me something I _don't _know." She turned to Dudley, and her gaze softened. "But, hey, Dudley—don't say you're 'fat'. You're _not _'fat'—"

Dudley raised his eyebrow. "Oh yeah?" He laughed. "Yeah, I am. I mean, come on, you ain't stupid, Clarice. "

"Well, I mean, you're _big, _sure, but _fat _seems so negative or something—"

"I'm less fat than I _was, _yeah. But still I'm fat." Dudley was so non-vexed that Piers was uncontrollably amused at Clarice's obvious befuddlement. After all, he was almost as used to all of it as Dudley was, in a weird sense. Piers had heard the worst of the fat jokes, and the most hilarious of the 'We're so sorry for you!'-type sentiments regarding Dudley's weight, and Piers had never once made a rude comment… in fact, he'd never, _ever _even mentioned Dudley's weight. It was remarkable.

Clarice cleared her throat and both boys looked at her, waiting. "I meant to compliment you, I mean—er—not compliment you… but…" She looked to Piers for help—it was evident she was struggling.

Dudley stared at her, confused. "Yeah?"

"Anyway, you are a lot more… not skinny but, toned? Uhm, you've lost weight? Well, I mean, not to say you had to, well you did in a way—for health, I mean, but you look nice and fit, Dudley Dursley, I think that's what I'm saying!" she finally managed to get out defiantly, giving a brisk nod. Her blue eyes were wide and more than a little intimidating, as though she was sure they were going to make her repeat everything she'd just uttered.

Piers' brown-eyed gaze flicked from Clarice to Dudley in a nanosecond.

Dudley, upon hearing all of these jabbered words, fell scarlet. _'She thinks I'm nice and fit,' _he thought pensively, _'she said I needed to lose weight but she says I'm nice. And fit. And did she say TONED?' _He grinned in what he hoped was a non-manic way. "Thanks, I—" he cleared his throat and tried to deepen the sound of his voice. "I worked out hard this past year. I mean, I won for the boxing team again, I bet you heard." And then, without thinking: "You want to feel my muscles?"

Clarice bit her lip and her eyes got even wider. When she finally opened her mouth again, she blinked and turned on her heel. "Don't be ridiculous," she said mildly, and headed toward the front door.

"_Bad luck," _muttered Piers dryly with a grin.

"Shut up," Dudley said back, and followed them outside, wondering what was wrong with him and why he was being such an idiotic dolt. What had happened to the way he'd been so careless and coolly braindead with Sarah? They'd barely known each other for four hours and he'd had her on a picnic table, snogging her with tongue with his hand in her tits! _'So what? I'm less fat but now I'm more of a retard!' _thought Dudley angrily, and slammed the door behind them.

Piers looked at him quizzically and he realized how stupid he must have looked, and started to laugh, giving a hefty shrug. Piers shrugged back.

--

It wasn't clear how it happened, and it was a little scary to the neighbors and passerby. But Clarice had fallen over onto the grass and was laughing so hard that tears poured down her face.

"People will think she's dead," Dudley said, pushing her with his foot.

"Dead people don't laugh, Dud," said Piers.

"Get _off," _she got out in a squeal, covering her face, still shaking.

"If Sarah came just now, it might be better. She'd be confused," Piers grinned, exhaling and turning his cigarette around in his long fingers.

Clarice laughed again and sat up. "You two are just… priceless."

They'd been hanging out in the same spot across from the park for about an hour, and had just finished eating lunch. For some reason, everything was highly amusing today.

"I don't know if that means we're good," Dudley said casually. "But that's okay." He looked from left to right. "Where _is _Sarah hiding out, anyway? She hasn't passed by here once—you'd think she'd have come right away!"

Piers sighed. "Y'know what this reminds me of?"

"Huh?"

Clarice turned around to listen.

"Harry Hunting," Piers said.

Dudley nodded. "_Kinda. _Except Harry wasn't a psychotic bitch who was actually hunting _me."_

Piers nearly fell over laughing and Dudley joined in, albeit nervously.

"Wait—what!" Clarice snapped. "What's Harry Hunting?"

'_Shit,' _Dudley thought worriedly. "Nothing—just some game—" he fumbled.

Piers gave him a weird look. "It was this thing we used to do with the gang; we'd try to round up Harry so Dudley could—"

"Don't!" Dudley called out, as though he were the hero in a very dramatic film.

"Could what?"

"…Nothing," Piers said, shrugging. "Nothing."

"Beat him up?" asked Clarice, perfectly clear.

Dudley shifted. "A little."

"Look, guys, I'm not blind! I know how horrible you were to him! But _don't _lie to me—friends shouldn't lie!" Clarice said firmly, standing to her feet and brushing off her sundress.

'_Even when one is hot and another one has to impress her and not look stupid?' _Dudley wondered but nodded. "I haven't beat him up in like, forever."

"Forever," Piers affirmed. "Almost like, six years!"

"Blimey," said Clarice. "Forever is short."

There was a very solid silence, but then she started laughing _again. _Dudley and Piers joined in, too.

"We're not going to beat Sarah up, though," said Dudley earnestly.

"Well, I should _hope _not," Clarice retorted, as though he'd just said something completely outlandish and insane.

He blushed but said nothing. He wanted to forget what had happened last summer. All of it. The dementors and their gloom and memories of screaming babies and so many regrets mixed with frustration, horrible friends and drama, binge eating and big talk, and Sarah, and _hitting _Sarah, and being utterly _terrified—_Dudley blinked and realised that both Clarice and Piers were staring at him.

"You all right?" Piers asked. "You looked dead."

"Dead people can't talk," muttered Dudley, and tried to shake away those clammy feelings.

"Well, anyway," said Clarice," you'll have to be prepared for her, she's… well, like you said."

"What did he say?" asked Piers innocently.

"Oh, you know," Clarice shrugged.

Dudley understood where his mate was going. "Naw, come on, I forgot, what did I call her?"

Clarice blushed and ran her hands over her dress. "You said… she was a psychotic—" she lowered her voice—" _bitch."_

"Huh?" Dudley asked.

"Didn't _quite _catch that," Piers said.

"BITCH!" Clarice cried out, and started laughing _again. _"Are you _trying _to corrupt me?"

"Naw, but that _was _funny," Dudley grinned, watching the way she tossed back her blonde hair when she giggled. He reminded himself to quit watching her. All of a sudden, he inadvertently belched.

"Oh my _god!" _Clarice exclaimed, as he and Piers burst out into low guffaws at her obvious chagrin. "Come _on, _have you heard of _manners? _Surely your _mum—"_

"Sorry!" Dudley shrugged but couldn't help but continue laughing.

"—I mean, see, you're _gross! _I just don't know why girls want you," she said with a joking smirk," or anybody I guess, no offense, Piers—"

Piers instantly quit laughing.

"Huh?" Dudley asked.

"Nothing!" Piers and Clarice said in unison, and _they _both started laughing. Across the street, mothers at the park were stopping to gawk.

Clarice heaved a painful sounding sigh, but she was still smirking. "_How _did I get _stuck _in this lot? All I wanted was a nice gay best friend who I could go _shopping _with! And look what I get! An ex-thug who happens to be gay but is completely straight and just as weird as any other boy and he strings along his even _straighter _straight best friend, _Dudley Dursley_ who is—gross!"

Dudley and Piers looked at each other. "Piers? _Shopping?" _

"Yeah, look at Dud, he's way more put together than me, his colors sorta match and all that—"

"_I_ could take you shopping," Dudley put in, and as soon as he said it, he hoped he'd meant it as a joke.

Clarice cocked her eyebrow. "Really? And would Mrs. Dursley be coming along, because I have _no _doubts as to where your wardrobe skills come from!?"

"_Oi," _Dudley warned, but, almost as though they were insane criminals who had just escaped from certain peril, they all erupted into laughter again.

--

There was a knock on the door downstairs. Dudley paused in the kitchen, where he was getting a glass of water, and checked his digital watch. _'Eleven-twenty two,'_ he thought, _'Weird. Who's calling now?' _Mum looked equally confused, and dropped her bleach spray, walking slowly into the hallway. He'd only just gotten in an hour ago. Clarice, Dudley and Piers had gone to the shopping mall with Cam and Mrs. Ryan. While Clarice's brother and Mum did some errands, the teenagers just _hung out _at the mall. It was an interesting concept to Dudley; usually _hanging out _meant weed or drinking with the gang, but Clarice's form of _hanging out _was talking and browsing stores. Although he and Piers were bored out of their minds looking at clothes, Clarice was a good sport and dwindled just as long in the music store, gaming centre and sports shops. At one point, they were walking through Debenhams and Clarice paused in front of the men's clothing. She looked at Dudley and then looked at a jacket that was being shown off on a mannequin.

"What do you think, Dudley?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

She grinned. "Come on, you're supposed to be the fashionable one in the group, right? With your amazing, matching colours? What do you think of this coat?"

"It's too hot for a coat," said Dudley honestly, but surveyed it. It was nice, that was for sure, but he wasn't sure if it was his type of thing. It was made of thick black leather, sleek and posh-looking. He touched it with the back of his hand. "I dunno. It's not really me."

"Well, why not?" Clarice demanded. "It has edge!"

"Clothes can have an edge?" Piers chortled.

"Apparently," Dudley said, with a small grin. "I guess it's not my style," he said.

"Neither are jerseys and chains, if you ask me," Clarice replied. "I mean, you're not being as mean anymore," she teased," and you're not in some gang, so why are you still dressing like it?"

"I like these clothes," Dudley replied simply, but as they walked away, he had to wonder. _'Is there a style that's more me, then?'_

Dudley shook himself out of these thoughts as he heard Dad's loud, angry voice from the front room. Harry's footsteps came pounding over their heads. _'God. What now?' _Dudley thought, begrudgingly. He and Harry hadn't said two words to each other since last week when they'd argued in Harry's room. Once in a while, they'd thrown each other glowering looks, but that was about it. Dudley got the feeling that Harry was glad Sarah was giving him such a tough time. He looked smug every time Dudley came home.

As the voices got more and more dramatic, Dudley figured he'd better check out the happenings. He walked down into the hallway and turned into the foyer—and stared. In front of him was Mum, and in front of _her _was the weirdest looking old man he'd seen in his life. This man had a huge, long beard and was wearing what appeared to be a dress, though it wasn't frilly.

The man said something about him and smiled, but all Dudley could do was stare, feeling a little out of place being in his pajamas as this stranger looked pleasant and Harry watched, amused, from the stairs. Dudley had a fleeting feeling that he must have looked very stupid, but he also wondered who _wouldn't _look stupid if some odd old guy was suddenly in their house, being so friendly and disturbing?

Obviously, this man was magic, because all too soon, Dudley and his parents were being flown in the air and then dropped quite rudely onto their own couch. Minutes later, goblets began to rap at their heads. Dudley could do nothing but stare at everyone. He wanted to ask them what the hell their problems were. This old fellow and Harry seemed rather chummy, and the man had a lot to say about Harry this and Harry that. And then he mentioned that Harry's godfather had died. Despite feeling completely out of sorts, Dudley saw Harry's facial expression change. Now, Dudley didn't understand what the fuck was happening with 'Hogwarts' or why Harry had to keep coming back over the summer, or _why Harry would come of age before him! _But he _did _understand right then that Harry _was _sad. But all of this understanding melted when a really ugly little animal started having a tantrum on the floor. This all seemed almost _too _much.

And then the weirdest thing happened. Dumbledore looked straight at Dudley, and told Mum and Dad that they'd inflicted more damage on him than Harry. Dudley could see that Harry was confused about this, too. _'Damage?' _thought Dudley.

Mum and Dad seemed horrified. _'Like when, like, Mrs. Figg said they made me hate Harry and they always told me he was bad?' _Dudley wondered. And he could have sworn that the old man looked right at him and winked.

As soon as it was all over and done, and Harry had left with the man, Mum and Dad held Dudley close.

"Do you know what he meant, Pet?" asked Vernon gruffly over Dudley's head in a whisper.

Mum was quiet for a second, and ruffled the front of Dudley's hair. She paused for _so _long, Dudley thought she might explain it. But then she kissed his cheek and patted it tenderly. "No idea," she whispered. Dudley looked up at her. Her face was wet.

--

"Are you having _dinner _over there?" Petunia wanted to know. "I don't want you going hungry—I don't remember her mother well enough to—"

"Yes, Mum, it's all right," Dudley said steadily, although this was only an assumption and Clarice's mother was actually going to be out for the evening, along with Cameron, whom she had to take to self-defense class (which all three of the teenagers found to be hugely ironic; "He could've used it last year," Piers had declared," though it's probably good. A little kid with ninja moves could've really messed up our rep.").

"Mrs. Ryan's nice," he explained, patting Mum on the shoulder. He felt a little bad about feeding Mum more lies, but at least he was only going over to Clarice's to watch a movie—not to smoke, drink or have sex… though part of him certainly wished for that last. His fantasies had changed dramatically within the past four weeks. There was _no one _giving him head any more, no Veronica and no Sarah. He hadn't imagined lapping at Sarah in ages, or gotten riled by the thought of the first night without a condom. Instead, he thought about Clarice. Just being _Clarice. _Which always made seeing her the next day decidedly awkward. Sarah was the kind of person to be thrilled a boy was thinking about her while alone—but Dudley figured Clarice would be horrified. And that almost horrified him, too. He was attempting to be as mature and as non-gross as possible, which was sometimes very hard.

As soon as Mum had been _completely _convinced that Mrs. Ryan wasn't going to lock him up in a dark basement and starve him for years, Dudley headed out the door, his mood light, despite thoughts about that "Dumbledore" guy (what a _name!_) still swimming through his head.

Clarice's house was only three away, but it was diagonal from Four and Dudley walked slowly in the strange balmy weather, the sky still sunny but more than a little creepy, as dark clouds seemed to breed above him. He was reminded again of the dementors.

And then, a voice broke the quiet:

"Hey!"

His shoulders tensing, Dudley turned around. Right across the street from him, perched on the little gate in front of Number Three in a shockingly short blue plaid miniskirt was none other than Sarah Cleelvans. She was sucking a cigarette and smiling demurely. She looked nice, in a garish way. Plus, he could see from even where he was standing that her chest had filled out over the summer, no longer were those tits just perky, but they had _grown, _they had—

Dudley realized what he was doing and tried desperately to quit. His heart was pounding, he wanted Sarah to look _bad _and ugly! He wanted her to be obviously mental! But she seemed so _real—_like when he'd first met her. She smiled and waved, jumping off the gate and, blowing out smoke like a little chimney on black stilettos, she walked toward him in the confident, saucy manner she hadn't been able to own last summer—she had gotten a little taller, too, but those _tits_—

"Hey," she repeated, "what's up?" Her voice was succulent and calm. And to think all this time he'd only remembered her shrieking! Plus, the way she was moving was still so _new. _No longer was she wobbling, no longer did she have the appearance of a little girl playing dress-up… _now _she'd filled out into her heels.

Dudley saw that he should probably speak, but he felt ill. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to hit her. "Oh, yeah," he said lamely, like he'd only just figured out who she was. "Yeah, 'sup?"

"Dudley," she said, still smiling. "How've you _been?" _They were standing inches apart now, her little black camisole slipping down over a red lace bra.

"Fine," he said deeply. He looked around. _'Won't someone come!?' _he thought stupidly, but what would a neighbor do? Shoot the hose at them? (Not even _that; _he remembered the hosepipe ban and cringed.) He considered booking it to Clarice's, but how would that look? New headline: **BIG D RUNS FROM SLAG! **

Sarah brushed back her black locks and smiled again. "Did you get my letter?"

"Yeah," he said, with a brisk nod, his voice changing, almost. Changing into how it had been last year, more biting and condescending. Serious. Less mellow, and more angry. "Why?"

"You didn't write _back, _silly," she grinned saucily, her angled, thin brow raised. "You look so hot," she said easily.

Dudley stared at her, feeling his chest swell with pride. "Oh, yeah?"

"I bet you're even more muscled up then last year, hm? You look like it. Wish I could've gone to Collings, instead of Saint Anne's. Then maybe I would have been able to see you." She took another deep breath of nicotine, and coughed into her hand.

Dudley cringed. Even though she was being normal, he still felt completely off-kilter. "Look," he said. _'Maybe this will work.' _"I have to go."

"Go where?" she asked nicely.

"Uh, to hang out…"

"…Because I was thinking," she went on, flipping her bangs, "why not go to the park? We could chat and catch up." She smiled and tugged a little on the front of her shirt. "Let me make it up to you, Dudley—I was _horrible."_

"Yeah, well…" He swallowed. "Yeah…" He shifted his weight. _'Sarah all ready said I look hot and I know we'd end up fucking, and maybe it would be all right?' _But he knew that was stupid, and besides, he didn't want that. She'd messed him up and he'd hated how he acted with her! So why was this _so _hard? He tried to remember what Clarice and Piers had told him to do… Maybe Harry was right. Maybe he deserved a lashing. "Look, Sarah," he said, a little bit more loudly, but he used a pleasanter tone of voice. "I just… I read your letter and I'm… I guess… I guess I'm sorry, too."

She beamed, and exhaled. "I knew it! So, let's work this out, Dudley. I really do love you—"

"No, Sarah, you're not listening… It's done. We're done. I don't want to see you anymore, okay?" As he said this, his own eyes widened. _'Harsh, too harsh!' _"I'm not trying to cause trouble anymore," he put in quickly. "I just… we're not… I'm not who I was."

Sarah stared at him incredulously. "I don't get your meaning, D. We went through _so _much, and I think I get it now, I was wrong to lie to you—"

"Whatever, it's done!" Dudley said, beginning to feel like he was when he was a little kid, like pretty soon he was going to start shaking, and pretending to cry, and stamping his foot—but he knew better now. He had to deal with this in a better way. "Sarah, I really have to go—"

"You're not being fair," Sarah said, and at that moment, he could hear the fury in her voice she was trying ever so hard to hide. "YOU SHOULD BE TAKING ME BACK RIGHT AWAY—"

"Sarah!" Dudley exclaimed. "I said I was sorry!" _'What else can I SAY?' _he thought worriedly.

"We _have _to—"

"Sarah, I have to go!" he said urgently. "I learned a lot lately and I'm not the same—"

"Why, because you've been hanging with that little prissy bitch Clarice? And that stupid Piers!? Did he tell you how bad he was with Mel? She was _drunk _and she said it was the worst she's had—"

"Yeah, well, I heard a few things about her, too," Dudley snarled.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?"

"Just what I said!" Dudley declared. _'So what if Piers is gay and thought it sucked. He still thought it sucked!' "_And Clarice is _not _a bitch," Dudley shot at her. "She's nice—"

"Yeah, so I've _heard. _Quite the miracle-worker, huh? Tell me, Dudley, does Clarice have an A-cup or a B-cup?" Sarah asked hotly, taking her hands and pressing her breasts together in such a way that her cleavage seemed like a wide black line.

Dudley wasn't very sure what she meant, but he took his eyes off her chest as quickly as he could. "Clarice and Piers are my friends," he replied. "And I have to go now. Bye." He walked past her, quickening his pace a lot more than he liked to, and fortunately, Sarah stayed back.

"I know you still like me, Dudley," she said loudly. "You're going to come find me soon and feel really _stupid _about all of this—"

"I don't need to feel any stupider," Dudley said in a low voice, and ignoring her, he hurried along in the fog, his heart sinking, finally hitting the porch of Number One and knocking on the door. Sarah was still standing in the middle of the street, watching.

The door swung open. "Hey Dud," greeted Piers, "come on—hey, what's the matter?"

"No chat, not now, must, house, okay," Dudley panted, all sanity lost. He pushed past Piers and made sure the door was locked. He felt quite like his father for a second. As soon as he was sure they were safe, he fell onto the couch.

Piers didn't look too concerned, but Clarice tottered out of the kitchen holding a huge bowl of popcorn and stared. "Oh, no, you saw Sarah!" she exclaimed, set the popcorn on the floor, hopped over it, and ran into the living room.

"How'd you _guess?"_

"I'm very intuitive; anyway, how did it _go?"_

"Yeah, Dud, what happened?—"

Dudley sighed, massaging his temples. "Honestly? I don't know. She caught me by surprise. She looked nice, I felt weird, I might have been a jerk—" Clarice narrowed her eyes—" for a _second! _But I said sorry! But… she thinks I want her back and I said it was over. And." He felt used up. He really hadn't explained something in so many words so quickly in a long time. Even the argument with Harry had been methodical; he'd had years to string that one together.

"You said you were sorry. You did your part. Did you hug her?" Clarice asked.

"No…" Dudley replied strangely.

"Did you lead her on in any way?"

"Naw, I think I was pretty fucking clear—"

"Don't say that word, please, and well… I'd say you did a good job, then!"

"If she gives you trouble again, we can always find Cam and have him do kung-fu," Piers shrugged.

Dudley snorted. Clarice rolled her eyes. "Way to use my brother, Polkiss." She smiled. "I think this calls for junk food."

'"_Way to use my brother"', _Dudley thought. _'Would she say I used Cam, too? For money? At least he doesn't smoke anymore… Never saw him, anyway. Maybe he never did?' _That was too wishful, though. No kid would pay good quid for weed and not even smoke.

"Are you okay, Dudley?" Clarice asked.

"Yeah, oh yeah," he nodded.

Piers grinned. "Brilliant. Then we can start…" he paused dramatically. "' BLOODCLOT!'"

"No way!" Dudley exclaimed. "You bought it?"

"Yeah," Piers nodded, pulling a videotape out of his backpack. Piers was a horror movie fanatic, the gorier, the better. That was one thing the gang had been good for: scaring the piss out of each other with bloody movies, playing awful pranks and acting like none of them were freaked. "They say there's at least two be-headings—"

Clarice cringed. "Are you _sure _I should watch this? I've never watched a mature rating--"

"Oh yeah, Clarice, you need to be schooled," Piers nodded energetically. "It's good to be flipped out every once in a while! Besides, we've watched all kinds of dramas with you—"

Dudley watched this interesting little discussion until it was settled: Clarice was going to be brave and watch _BloodClot. _As soon as they'd brought out crisps, popcorn and sour candy (which, apparently, Clarice fancied), Dudley sat down near the very middle of the couch. He felt it was an extremely strategic move, because then Clarice had to sit by _him. _

"Well, here you are, then, you're designated holder of the popcorn, it's the curse of the middle person," she smiled, dropping in beside him. Dudley cringed a little when she said _curse _(out of habit) and noticed how she leaned up against the armrest with her candy. He hoped she wasn't avoiding him. Piers sat down on his other side with the crisps and pushed Play.

Dudley hardly ate anything. He'd been being extremely careful about his diet, but allowed himself some treats once in a while. However, he hadn't binged since the first night back, and he'd felt so utterly revolting and helpless that he vowed to never do it again. Instead, any time he felt annoyed, he'd been doing one-armed pushups or listening to music. He ate popcorn slowly, being sure to savor it.

As the movie got going, Dudley could tell it was going to be a nasty one. The opening scene was some lady getting banged into with a hatchet. Clarice had dropped her candy and was watching, her mouth an 'O'. It was pretty grisly, even for Dudley and Piers, who had watched just about the whole horror section in third year.

Piers kept gripping the cushions and shouting out directions to the actors, as always. Every time there was a killing scene, he said," Perfect!"

It _was _pretty cool, but Dudley was so focused on Clarice's reactions that he hardly knew what the movie was about. He wondered if they were perhaps torturing her with all of these bloody images, but when the movie's climax took off, these thoughts quickly faded from his mind. It was the nastiest, coolest thing he'd ever seen. The villain, who had only one bleeding stump for a leg but was super powerful, had gotten into this girl's house, and she could hear him squishing along, looking for her. _Squish. Squish. _The nasty sound got louder, and the brunette trembled underneath her bed, her fingers about a foot away from the phone. She reached forward and then—there was an explosion of music and a disgusting _thing _with no eyes and a hollow, open red mouth grabbed her hand! Dudley's response, as always, was tensing up and pressing his back closer to the couch. Piers shouted "YES!", and moved excitedly to the floor to be closer to the television.

Clarice, however, let out a squeal of terror, and pressed her face into Dudley's solid shoulder, tightening her long arms around his back and chest.

He blinked and looked down at her curly blonde hair; he could feel her breathing heavily and shakily onto his side, her arms were squeezing him in a death grip. He was afraid to move, because he didn't want _her _to move. He sat rigidly and held the same position for what felt like forever.

"Is he gone?" Clarice whispered. "Is it over?"

"Yeah," Dudley grinned. "Well, she stabbed him and stuff but now it's still finishing."

"Should I look?"

His face fell a little. _'Just stay there,' _he thought urgently. "I dunno, maybe something else will happen—" he told her, trying to sound concerned.

"Well, I'm not looking!" she said defiantly, to his great joy. She lessened her grip, but kept her face pressed against him. When the ominous music died down, she shifted her head to look at the television, but kept leaning against him.

With a lot of courage, Dudley moved his large arm up behind Clarice's neck and fit it over her shoulder. She didn't react at first, but then settled against him even more.

When the credits started rolling, they sat still and said nothing for at least five minutes. Finally, Clarice pulled away softly and looked up at him, smiling. "Sorry for using you as a shield. And a pillow," she said matter-of-factly.

"At least I'm useful," he said, and then wondered if that was stupid. He flushed. He wanted to put his arm back around her shoulder. He wondered if she'd only gotten close to him because she was scared. "You like the movie?" he asked carelessly.

"No!" she exclaimed, "it was disgusting!" She giggled, and then peered down at the floor. "I guess Piers got bored—"

Dudley looked, too. Piers was spread out, sleeping. "Naw, he does this every time," he explained. "At least he has a good go! Sometimes he'd like, fall asleep in the first five minutes and I'd be scared to—I mean…" he paused. "That was back when we were like, thirteen!" he explained.

"I understand," Clarice nodded with a sly grin. "Anyway." She cleared her throat. "I'm glad you talked to Sarah. Does it feel better now? Like you're free?"

"I guess. A little. I just hope she leaves me alone for real," he replied.

"She _really_ made scared you, didn't she?" Clarice wanted to know, her light blue eyes very solemn. She leaned back to see his face better.

Dudley's dark blue eyes were a little wide and child-like. He nodded. "She made me see… how things were." _'Along with those dementors. And everything.' _"Thanks for your help," he put in slowly. "I really couldn't have done that if you and Piers hadn't helped; probably might've gone back with her because there was nothing better to do—"

"What are friends for, Dudley?" she smiled.

Dudley didn't answer. He thought for a moment, and came upon a decision... He set the popcorn bowl to his left and looked at Clarice meaningfully. Her own eyes widened as he planted one hand on the soft fabric of the couch, and his other hand on her thin cheek. He felt his heart pounding as he leaned closer to her face, feeling like he was hulking over her, her thin shoulders and little white sundress seeming so small. She raised her eyebrows in shock but said nothing, closing her eyes and angling her face to the right as Dudley brought his lips to rest over hers. He kept them there for longer than he'd expected, and then broke off the kiss. She still said nothing, but leaned further into him, putting her small hand on his leg-- he noticed she was shaking. He kissed her again, a bit deeper—they broke their lips apart and then did it again, Dudley turning his face and tugging at her bottom lip with his mouth. They kept this up for a little bit, and then Dudley ran his hand from her cheek down to the small of her back, and he prodded through her soft, wet lips with his firm tongue—

Clarice pulled away in a snap. "Wait!" she protested.

"What's the matter?" he demanded hoarsely, concerned.

She eyed his stance, she eyed the front of his trousers—"Oh no," she moaned. "Oh God—"

Dudley backed off her, turning red and grabbing one of the pillows to shield himself. "What's—"

"Dudley, I didn't mean—I mean—"

"It wasn't bad, was it, why were you kissing me _back?" _he asked hotly. "What's _wrong—"_

"No, it was—it was good—it was!" Clarice paled. "It was my first _kiss," _she whispered.

"Oh," Dudley said. "Oh, well, that's great!" He smiled. "Cool—"

"No, Dudley!" she snapped. "Not _cool, _it's not right—"

"Sorry… but _what's _not right?"

"This is awful, I don't know how to say—" she was keeping her voice very calm, very still. The movie had long since gone blank; Piers was groaning and flipping over, but fast asleep. "I imagined it different—I thought it was going to be with—with… well, Dudley, I like you _so much_, of course I do, otherwise I wouldn'tve just—oh God… I thought it would be after a dance or like, romantic or something, and that it would be with… a nice boy—"

Dudley's face became stony. "What do you mean?"

"Don't get me wrong, you're _so nice to me—_always, you've never been cruel to me and I noticed, and even when you were mean, I just thought you were a weird kid, not a bad kid, but you weren't _nice _to _other people _then, Dudley! I mean, even when you were good to me you were _Harry Hunting _and making fun of him all the time and pushing people down, giving Susan Epcot a bloody nose, punching kids— remember when you tried to bring _Harry _for Show-and-Tell?"

"No—" Dudley said slowly. He felt like he didn't even know himself. _'Harry? For Show-and-Tell? What?' _"I don't—but what do you mean, you thought it would be different—"

"My first kiss!" she burst out. "With _Dudley Dursley!" _

Dudley was mortified to see tears rolling down her face. "Oh _shit, _Clarice, I sucked? I've never heard a complaint, girls usually say—"

"That's the _point, _Dudley—you _were _good, but I _know _what you've done! I've heard!"

"Sorry, what?"

"I know what you and Sarah did!" she said in a hushed tone, wiping her eyes. "I know you've… _done it…" _she whispered. "I know you've… done other things to her, too—"

"Yeah, but--!"

"Dudley, you're young—we're young—oh God, it was supposed to be with another boy, _Dudley Dursley—"_

"Look, could you quit acting like I ruined your life or something! I don't get why you're so _damned _upset—"

"Dudley!" she whimpered. "I know about Mary-Anne Johns and the bathroom!"

Dudley went pink. "No—that's… how do you—"

"It's Privet Drive knowledge, Dudley, and I like you, I _do, _but I'm _not _a park bathroom _shag—_and I'm not some girl you can just score with!"

"I wasn't trying—"

"You were aiming for full-frontal snogging, Dudley! You _were, _it was my _first _kiss—you can't just rush into things—"

"I wasn't—"

"Dudley, you were only a _fourth year, and you had sex—"_

"I didn't set out to!" Dudley announced, for the first time in his life. "I was _showing off. _"

"Well, you'd better not be trying to show off by kissing me—I don't want to hear you brag about how you got me to open up—"

He turned an even deeper shade of pink—"I _won't, _I wouldn't, Clarice—"

"Dudley Dursley, I honestly like you _so _much," she said softly, her gaze finally less brutal," but you're just not my kind of boy."

Dudley's lip trembled slightly.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But it wouldn't work—I can't forget about the past."

"Well…_well," _he began, sinking back into the couch and looking up at the ceiling," what am I _supposed to do? _I mean, how am I supposed to get someone nice like you to like me if all you do is think about me when I was… mean!? I mean," he paused, his voice rising. "I don't _get it, Clarice. _Because you seemed pretty fine with it— and can't you just…?" He broke off, utterly jumbled

"Dudley, you and Piers are the only two people who've wanted to hang out with me. At school, I'm an outcast-- the girls think I'm snobby and the boys think I'm a prude—which I _am, _but—anyway, you and Piers, strange though you both are, have totally taken me under your wing—"

"Nuh uh," Dudley said forcefully. "You've helped _us. _Piers loves you, though I don't get it because y'think that would make him not queer. And you help me _a lot—_you think stuff I say's funny and not just dumb, or whatever—"

"Dudley, let me _finish! _If you keep this up, this mature business and being normal and slightly friendly instead of complaining and whining like you used to, and blaming things on other people, you're going to see a difference—and just because I'm not… ready… for this in the _least_, that does _not _mean you're not going to find a nice, normal girl… Which, by the way, I'm not normal, you should know this—"

"You're normal in _my_ life," Dudley told her pointedly.

She giggled. "Maybe so but… no one's completely normal. We're all sort of freaks in our own ways, don't you think?"

'_Freaks,' _he thought and then snapped out of it. "I—I just…" He sighed. "I shouldn't have done anything—"

"No, Dudley, honestly. This just isn't the time," she smiled sincerely, and patted his shoulder in a pleasant fashion. "It's looking up," she said.

He hoped she was telling the truth. He thought for a moment and then nodded, albeit glumly.

"OH!" came a yell from the floor. Piers sat up instantly and looked around, bewildered. "Did I miss a lot?"

Even though they knew he was talking about the movie, Dudley and Clarice grinned and said in unison: "Yes."

* * *


	19. Burrowing Out

**AN: ****Art **for Chapter Eighteen can be found at my deviantart, ronweezyrox's deviantart and Stalicon's. As always, thank you everyone. And please review. Let me know what you think.

* * *

**Nineteen: Burrowing Out**

* * *

"That smells so good!" Dudley proclaimed, coming into the kitchen to find Petunia pulling a sheet of cookies out the oven. Suddenly, he felt ridiculously hungry. She hadn't made cookies in _ages._ They had been buying all of those disgusting diet treats. 

Flashing a smile at him, she set them atop the stove and took off her pink, flowered oven mitts. "They're a slightly modified recipe," she explained," but I'm sure they'll still be good—all of this low-butter, low-sugar is hard to keep up with—"

"They _look _all right," he commented, his stomach growling at the wonderful odor. They were the very ones that were Mum's specialty—walnut chocolate chip. He reached out to take one.

Petunia held his hand back and squeezed it. "Now, now, honey, you don't want to burn yourself. Go run along now—your little friends will be here soon. I hope we have enough sandwiches--"

"Actually," Dudley explained, watching her expression," it's just Piers and he's bringing Clarice Ryan."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Dursley. "Where are the others?"

"Er. Vacation," said Dudley dully. He felt bad again about lying to her when she was being so nice, but he didn't want her to worry. Petunia liked when he had so many friends, but honestly, he was a lot happier with the two he had now.

"Clarice? Little blonde from Number One?"

Dudley nodded, still eying the cookies.

"She was a nice girl, polite, as I recall. Even to Harry, and God knows how hard it is to tolerate _that _boy—strange mother, though," Petunia said shortly, and gave Dudley a look urging him to ask her why.

Any other time, he wouldn't have bitten his mother's gossiping bait, but he was desperate for answers about his childhood. "She seemed okay," he shrugged," why's she strange?" He massaged his stomach and went over to the cupboard, rummaging around until he found a granola bar.

Petunia looked overjoyed, and began to take the cookies off the metal sheet with a black spatula. "A fine woman, I'm sure," she began," but she had absolutely _no _idea just how bad untidiness is! I would bring you over there for a play date, and the house would be an absolute _mess. _Furthermore, she'd let you get mud and muck all over you and let her son _and _daughter do the same!" She sniffed disapprovingly. "And that is not right."

Dudley fought the urge to laugh, and instead took another bite out of the granola bar. He had to love Mum for her wackiness. "So did… did I play with Clarice often?"

"A bit," Petunia said," but more than often, Piers. But now that I think about it, Mrs. Polkiss probably just wanted to dump him off here so she could think about doing _better things," _she snapped.

Fortunately for Dudley, the doorbell rang just then.

His mum changed her tune immediately. "I'm just so excited your finally having friends over here again for tea! I was beginning to think you were embarrassed!" She clicked off in her heels to answer the door.

Dudley shuffled after her awkwardly.

"So _nice _to see you, Piers!" said Mrs. Dursley stiffly, pursing her lips into a smile. It was amazing that she could be so cool toward people she liked so much, but that was her way. No one but Dudley had experienced the full gentleness of Petunia Dursley's heart.

"Hi Mrs. Dursley," Piers grinned over her shoulder at Dudley, who rolled his eyes. "Thanks for having me."

"Come in, come in, you don't need to thank me, dear," Petunia urged, stepping aside so the small, thin boy could enter the foyer.

"HEY!" yelled a voice.

Piers looked behind himself, out into the street. "Uh oh," muttered, and tried to shut the door. Petunia and Dudley looked above his head—

'_Uh oh? Holy fuck is more like it,' _Dudley thought. Across the street was Sarah, with her gaggle of almost-as-skanky girls. She was wearing a purple pleather miniskirt that was hiked up over her red panties and was waving. At them.

"Do you know that… that _girl?" _Petunia spat out, as though the word were a bad taste in her mouth.

"Not at all, nope, no," said Dudley quickly, slamming the door and locking it, just in case. His heart pounded. Piers chortled and Dudley smacked him in the arm while Petunia was still peering through the window.

"What is she _wearing?" _went on Mrs. Dursley. "Girls these days, disgusting, can you believe it?"

"Not at _all_, Mum," Dudley said.

"Who would find _that _attractive—"

Dudley bit his lip and tried not to think of fucking spread-legged Sarah in the gazebo. "Not me," he lied in a very sick-sounding voice.

Piers was looking as though he might break down and laugh soon, so it was good when Petunia changed the subject. Well… not _good:_

"Speaking of girls, where is Clarice? She was coming with you, wasn't she, Piers?"

Piers gave Dudley a Look, and then turned to Petunia. "Actually, she's got a bit of a cold, couldn't make it."

Dudley raised his eyebrow at Piers, who mouthed _'I'll tell you later.'_

"There _is _a chill in the air lately," Petunia nodded," funny, in the middle of July, too." She gave a shrug, and headed off to the kitchen, the boys on her heels. "Too bad. I was looking forward to meeting your girlfriend."

Dudley reddened: "She's not my—"

"Oh sweetie, I know that! I meant yours!" Petunia smiled at Piers.

Piers went a ghastly shade of white. "Uh—"

"Don't be shy, Piers, what's she like?" Petunia asked, finishing up with the cookies, which were now on a tray, and pulling small sandwiches out of the fridge.

Both Piers and Dudley stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway and said nothing. Dudley wasn't sure why this was a problem; Piers had pretended to like girls for years.

Petunia smiled, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. "Is she a nice girl? I'll bet you make the cutest little couple—"

"Mum!" Dudley exclaimed, as Piers' ears reddened more and more. "They ain't a couple… Clarice isn't… dating anyone," he finished awkwardly. _'Though she __**should **__be dating me!' _he thought miserably.

"Oh, well, _okay," _said Petunia and winked. "You boys can keep your secrets—"

"We will!" Piers burst out. "Sorry… I mean…"

Petunia smiled. "Everything is ready for you if you'd like to sit down!"

"Thanks, Mum—"

The table was set with their nice china, as a steaming teapot sat in the middle. Dainty teacups were out, and a plethora of good-looking tea snacks sat ready to be devoured.

"I made too much, I think," Petunia explained, but Piers was obviously not listening.

"Wow, Mrs. Dursley!" he exclaimed. "This is awesome!" He turned to Dudley. "This is what I was talking about! Cookies! Like the old times!" He grinned.

"Calm down," Dudley grinned, but he was nostalgic, too.

Petunia looked pleased with herself. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know! I have to go to the store for more bleach and disinfectant, but I'll be back soon!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Dursley," said Piers. She smiled again and walked out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her.

After a few minutes and (in Dudley's case) quite a few cookies, Dudley poured another cup of tea and added cream before looking up at his friend. "So… Clarice is _sick_, huh?" he asked a bit sarcastically.

Piers sighed. "Mate, I don't know how to put it—"

"She told you about the other night, then?" Dudley inquired. He didn't mind if Piers knew; he just hoped Clarice hadn't said anything humiliating.

Piers had a gulp of tea and nodded. A strange vibe passed between them—Dudley didn't quite know what it meant. Piers shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. "I think you scared her, Dud," he finally said.

"Yeah, I got that sense," Dudley said dryly. "But _why? _Come on, you gotta tell me what she said!"

"Uh… I don't know—"

"PIERS!" Dudley shouted. "_I'm _your best friend, you _have _to—"

"Well, I will say this. She was scared. But she… uh… she liked it," he explained, tapping his finger against the teacup.

"What did she say about it?" grinned Dudley.

"Fuck!" Piers snapped suddenly. "What am I supposed to be? The matchmaker?"

"Naw, Piers, what the hell?"

"It's nothing," Piers put in quickly. "I didn't mean that. Anyway, she just said she ain't ready for a boyfriend, even though she thinks she likes you… She also asked—" Piers reddened, but cracked up.

"What? Come on, say it!" Dudley urged.

"You're gonna kill me…" Piers wiped tears from his eyes; he was laughing so hard.

"Out with it!" Dudley ordered.

Piers grinned. "She asked me what it means when a guy's dick moves."

"SHE ASKED YOU WHAT?"

"Well," sputtered Piers, in danger of cracking up again," she didn't say _dick _but you get the idea—"

It was Dudley's turn to go red. "Oh my god," he sighed, and knocked back the tea like it was strong liquor. He grabbed the teapot and filled his cup again. "When it _moves?" _he repeated desperately.

"Obviously she's never seen or heard of a boner," Piers said solemnly, as though in their neighborhood, that was close to a sin. "Gave her a shock, I 'spose."

Dudley smacked himself in the forehead. "She asked you _that?" _he groaned. "What did you say to her?"

"I told her not to worry about it… I told her it was just the real Big D…" Piers trailed off and then burst anew into laughter.

"Jesus!" Dudley declared, but started laughing too.

Piers shook his head and took a tea sandwich. "What were you thinking, anyway, snogging Clarice?"

"I like her," Dudley shrugged.

"So you weren't trying to get in her pants?"

"No!" Dudley exclaimed, folding his arms. "She ask you that, too?"

Piers nodded weakly. "Something like that, yeah."

"Well, did you straighten it all out?"

"Yeah!" Piers said, again in that strange, almost-terse tone. "Yeah, I told her you wasn't doing anything, but is that the _truth?"_

"Yes!" Dudley put in loudly. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't fancy a shag with her?"

"Well, I'm not gonna lie and say I haven't thought about it, but right then, no! I _like _her! Is that so weird?" he asked.

"A little bit, Dudley. I mean… every girl you've liked you started out fancying because you thought she was a piece of ass, right?"

"That's not true—"

"Come _on, _Dudley. Mel? You snogged her for a week and dumped her. You shagged Mary-Anne and nothing happened from it; you didn't want to _date _her, you just thought she was hot! And Sarah—don't tell me you were interested in her personality—"

"Sure I was—"

"At first?"

Dudley tried to think back to Piers' birthday party. He really couldn't remember anything she'd said. _'But she licked whipped cream off her lip and nearly sat on my lap—short skirt?' _He shrugged lamely. "I guess I wasn't…"

Piers looked a little triumphant. "So why should Clarice be any different?"

"What are you _playing _at?" Dudley grunted. "I like her! She's… she's nice!"

"I don't want her to feel like you're gonna bone her all the time, Dud! And I don't want you to—" he stopped abruptly.

"Don't want me to what?"

"Nothing," Piers said, shaking his head to and fro, his brown bangs swinging.

"You started to say something, now you gotta finish it—"

Piers sighed quietly. "I just don't want you to be upset… because… I know you usually get what you want. But Clarice said she just ain't ready for anything yet—she wants to hang out with us still, but she was embarrassed about all of it and wanted me to tell you in person—and I just don't want you thinking like… I just don't want you to get hurt, I guess," Piers finished, going red in the face. "I mean, no matter how shitty you've treated me—" Dudley made a sign that he was going to protest—" no, starting in fourth year, you really _did _treat me bad, Dud, don't try and tell me otherwise… like, I know it was because of the nurse and all of that, but you did start acting mean toward me. But now, for some reason, you're acting like you used to. Like, when we were small."

A little shamed, Dudley remembered just last summer, how he'd decked Piers for 'liking' Sarah, and then called him names behind his back, said his party was lame. Although he'd never taken part in the other guys' public taunting of Piers, he'd made fun of Piers enough on their own. _'Why though? He's my top mate… I never once thought of Malcom, Dennis or Gordan as better than Piers.' _He looked back at Piers and struggled to say something; anything. "I don't know what was up with me—" he murmured. "I really don't know."

"I didn't either," Piers said darkly," but I just stuck to it because I believed you'd be you again, whatever that means."

"Yeah, I don't know what that means. If I wasn't me, then who was I?" Dudley asked.

"Someone really angry," Piers offered. "Someone really lost?"

"Where you get that from?"

Piers shrugged. "You stopped talking as much. Stopped caring as much, I guess."

"We were always little thugs, though, right?" Dudley inquired," I mean, we made the gang when we were like… in primary school… Like… when we were eight?"

"Yeah, but… I don't know. It was different."

Dudley remembered something that Clarice had said. "Piers, did I try to use Harry as my show-and-tell?"

Piers laughed. "I'd forgotten that! Yeah, think so. Mrs. Wills wasn't too keen on it though, made you sit in time out and I think you might've thrown the time out chair at someone--"

Dudley wanted to ask more about this, but he went on quickly, as though he was discovering treasure :"Did we always hate Harry?"

"Hate Harry?" repeated Piers slowly. "I don't remember ever _hating_ him, really. I mean, I actually think we used to play with him 'cause I remember him burying stuff in the sandbox for me to find, but that was when we was _really _young. 'Cause then I sort of think your mum wouldn't let him play anymore, she seemed to think he was a wonky influence or something."

"Yeah," said Dudley hoarsely. "Guess so."

"So then it became a kind of game and you'd beat him up… like you were mad at him or something, and you know, we were kids, so I thought it was funny and helped you. And then the gang sort of came from that. Plus, Harry started getting mean too, so then it wasn't hard to want to help you beat him up. I mean…" Piers shrugged. "He was always saying stuff about you and calling us stupid."

"Yeah," repeated Dudley, still hungry for answers. He needed answers from Harry especially, but that was never going to work. He wondered what Harry's take on the events would be—most likely that he'd never been rude to Dudley or his mates, and that he'd always been an innocent victim. Dudley supposed he was at first, but there were clear memories he had of Harry muttering fat jokes at him for no reason, or making up some elaborate pun so that Dudley was forced to look stupid in front of their peers. But still, as Mrs. Figg had said, had he _really _held his cousin's hand on the way to school?

Dudley went to pour more tea, and saw that it was gone.

"Too bad your mum's not here—we'll have to wait to get some more," said Piers.

Feeling strange, Dudley stood up and grabbed the teapot. "I can make tea," he said offhandedly, and trudged over to the sink.

Piers looked amazed but said nothing on the matter. Instead, he went back to the subject of Clarice. "So, all I can tell you is you shouldn't try kissing her again. And try not to get stiff in front of her either, that might not be good—"

"Oh yeah, I'll definitely work on that," Dudley replied darkly, rolling his eyes and filling the yellow kettle with water. "I probably just need to get laid. Then I could stop being so lame."

"Yeah well, you and me both."

Dudley jerked to attention and looked at Piers with wide eyes.

Piers waved his hands. "I didn't mean… like… at the same time! Or… like, together—"

"Stop," Dudley said, his face feeling flushed. "I know…" He turned his back to Piers again, trying to hide his discomfort and busied himself with the making of tea.

Piers cleared his throat. "You do know that just because I'm gay, it doesn't mean I'm going to do anything to you—I wouldn't, I'm not stupid. I know you'd probably beat me into the floor—"

"Yeah," Dudley said quietly. He paused. "I mean… no, I don't think I would. I'd just be really, really mad. Or confused, or something—"

"I know. I wouldn't do that to you, Dud—

"I know," said Dudley, leaning against the counter and staring at the wall, as the kettle steamed on the stove. "But… you…you fancy me, do you?"

"Dudley, you've asked me this before. You _know _the answer," Piers whispered.

"Still? You still do?"

"I guess so," Piers replied.

Dudley traced the wallpaper pattern on the wall. "Why?"

"I honestly don't know," Piers said," trust me, I've tried to stop."

"Oh," Dudley said, not sure about how he felt, getting a visualization of a disgusted Piers trying desperately to quit liking him. "Well… I just don't get how you picked me in the first place, I'm not even close to being gay—"

"Okay, Dudley, there's something you don't get. I'm like anyone else. I can't control who I like!" Piers asserted. "I mean… you still fancy Sarah, don't you?"

"No!" Dudley said, turning around again. "I mean, I guess a little bit. But like Clarice says, I know I shouldn't. And it's more of her looks or… like, stuff I remember anyway. Like when I saw her the other night, I went all weird and I _don't _know if that means I still like her, but sometimes I think about her… but I _don't _want to like her," he said firmly.

"Well. There you go," Piers nodded.

Dudley turned around and squinted. "I'm… I'm not like Sarah to you, am I?"

Piers grinned. "Dudley, you're the least like Sarah of anyone in the world."

Dudley smiled. "Thanks, I guess. I don't really want to be a stalker. And what she wears? That's just out of the question."

"You are one strange bloke," Piers commented, snickering. "I'm just glad you're back."

Dudley was about to ask _from where_ when the kettle started whistling.

---

"_It hurts!" _Harry kept saying. _"It hurts, it hurts!"_

"_Maybe you need someone to rip it off," _Dudley leered, with Piers beside him. Malcom, Dennis and Gordan all hung behind, laughing. Dudley looked back at each of them in turn, grinning.

Harry had his hand plastered over his forehead.

"_Yeah, go on, Dudley, take that ugly scar off him once and for all," _Dennis said.

"_Give me a minute!" _Dudley declared. But just then, the schoolyard bell rang.

"_Come on, Dudley!" _Piers said, waiting as the other three boys headed off. _"Come on!" _

"_Just a second, I'm gonna show Potter who's boss on my own," _Dudley grinned, and Piers waved and bounded away.

Harry cowered in the corner. Dudley looked from side to side and approached him slowly.

"_Come on, just hit me, Dudley, I don't want to be late for class."_

"_I'm not going to hit you," _Dudley replied quietly. _"Why is your scar hurting, anyway?"_

Harry removed his hands and looked at Dudley strangely. Without a word, he took off running.

"_Hey!" _Dudley called, also breaking into a run, but Harry was a lot faster.

…

Dudley sat up straighter on the couch and muttered: "I just wanted to know about his scar."

"What was that, popkin?" Mum asked nicely, looking away from the news on the television.

"Oh. Nothing, Mum," he replied.

"Not going all loopy again, are you, talking to yourself?" Vernon piped in, raising an eyebrow and looking up from his drill orders. "Hearing things?"

"No—" Dudley said, just as Petunia pursed her lips and looked deadly.

"How many times have I said it, Vernon, our son is _not loopy!"_

"Pet, I wasn't trying—I was simply—I mean, last summer, he went all weird and spooky for days, after those-- things sucked his soul—"

Petunia leapt out of the armchair and went behind the couch, holding her hands over Dudley's ears.

"Oi, Mum, _please—" _Dudley groaned, but it made absolutely no difference in his hearing.

"I don't want to discuss what happened!" Petunia said shrilly. "As a matter of fact, I do not want to _think _about it! And they did NOT suck his soul, he still has his soul, the boy told us that—"

"Maybe He was lying! Did you ever think that, Petunia? He hates Dudley! What if Dudley's soul has been gone this entire time and he's been going off to school all, all _soulless _and—"

Petunia's voice got louder: "Harry was _not _lying!"

Both Vernon and Dudley stared at her (it took Dudley some effort to turn around, particularly with her hands on his ears so tightly, but he finally managed). "Petunia—" Vernon began warily—

"I know what I said!" she shouted. "Harry is here for a reason! He's here to be _safe!" _She lowered her voice again. "And Dudley isn't soulless, because he's functioning properly, I was told that if you get your soul sucked out, you go around in a stupor, and he's been wonderful, this past year he made delightful grades and got nothing but positive feedback from his teachers, high time for that if you ask me!" She massaged Dudley's thick shoulders.

"Pet—" Vernon began again, looking severely confused, almost as though he thought his wife had gone "loopy" herself.

"He may be strange, Vernon, and he may be annoying and bothersome and rude with awful hair," Petunia began," but Harry has never been a liar."

With that, she kissed Dudley on the top of the head, threw her husband a disdainful look, and marched upstairs.

Dudley stared open-mouthed at his father, who looked about the same.

The newscaster's voice broke the silence: _"And remember that delightful water-skiing budgerigar of last summer? Well, folks—"_

"The bird's all hodgepodge if you ask me," said Vernon, though his voice was rather weak," all camera tricks and lies."

--

The next day, Dudley knew what he had to do. There was only a week until school started again, and he hardly wanted to leave this hanging over his head. He made sure to wear lots of deodorant and cologne, and he gelled his hair just right. He selected a plain blue shirt instead of a jersey and he even resisted the urge to wear chains. When all of this was done, he waved to Mum, who was still looking weary from her strange outburst, and heading out the door toward Number One.

"Uhm… Hey Big D!" came a high voice.

"Hey, Mark," Dudley said, walking past the smaller boy with a nod.

"_See?" _he heard Cam Ryan say, _"I told you!"_

There came a chorus of enthusiastic shouts of "Hey Big D" and "Hi, Dudley!" which he turned back and waved in response to.

He crossed the street and headed up the porch steps. He sucked in a breath, and wondered if this meant he was nervous. _'What's happening to my mind?' _he thought worriedly, and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open, and Mrs. Ryan smiled. "Oh, hi honey, come inside."

He smiled back, and ducked into the house.

"Clarice!" called Mrs. Ryan. "Clarice, you've got a caller." She turned back to him. "So, how have you been? Come on in, don't be shy—"

"I'm okay," Dudley nodded, momentarily embarrassed that he'd kissed her daughter last week—he hoped Clarice wasn't the type of girl to divulged her experiences to her mother, but Mrs. Ryan was looking at him pleasantly, so he figured she did not know. "What are you making?" he asked. The kitchen smelled wonderful.

"You always _have _been a boy about his food," she said. "I was making a casserole for lunch—"

"What's a casserole?" Dudley asked, as she opened the oven and checked whatever was cooking.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Never heard of a casserole? It's basically when you throw a bunch of leftovers into a pan, add sauce and bake it into something that you hope your family doesn't recognize as last night's dinner."

Dudley looked mortified, and she laughed. "If Clarice would ever get down here, then maybe she'd ask you to stay— oh, here's the girl."

Clarice came bounding down the steps and entered the kitchen, wearing silk pink pajama bottoms and a tank top—"What did you need, Mum?" she asked, and then," Oh!" Her face reddened when she saw Dudley, and she made to cover herself.

"I was just explaining to your friend here about what a casserole was," explained Mrs. Ryan, giving her daughter a strange look.

"Er—" said Clarice.

"Uh—" said Dudley, trying not to peek at her chest—" Sorry, I can go—"

"Is something wrong?" asked Mrs. Ryan. "Clarice, could you get me the potholder?"

Clarice did as her mother asked, trying desperately to operate while still hiding her chest, and then looked at Dudley.

"I just came here to talk to you—" Dudley began.

"Oh. Well…Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked, throwing a glance at Mrs. Ryan.

"Okay," she sighed. "Come on, then." She motioned for him to follow her, and they went up the narrow steps to the other part of the house.

Searching for something to say as she opened one of the doors, he came up with: "My mum would freak out on a girl if she came upstairs with me alone—"

"Well, there you are," said Clarice dully," that's Mum for you. Trusts everyone except for me, she does."

"Oh. Well, my mum doesn't trust anyone _except _me," Dudley replied. "I don't really know what's worse."

"Right," said Clarice, opening the door and revealing a study. She stepped inside, and Dudley followed. She closed the door behind them and faced him, folding her arms tightly around herself. "Well, get out with it. Why are you here? If it's about your tea, I regret I couldn't come, I was—"

"Avoiding me, yeah, Piers said," Dudley nodded.

She pinkened even more. "Oh? He spoke to you all ready?"

"Yea'. He did. And I wanted to say something to you." Dudley paused, unable to miss the fact that she was gazing down at the front of his trousers, as though expecting him to _"move" _at any second. When she saw that he'd noticed, she blushed worse and looked away. _'How am I supposed to say this? Why did I come here?' _he thought.

"Yes?" she inquired meekly. "I'm waiting."

He wondered if she was angry at him, or maybe simply humiliated. She kept tapping her foot.

"I'm not that good with words," he said thickly. "But I'll try." He shifted his weight as Clarice shifted her gaze to the floor. "I want to say something about the other night… No matter uh--- what you think, no matter what you think—" he took a breath and continued—" I wasn't trying to get in your pants, or whatever."

"I never said—"

"Come on, Clarice, yeah you did, Piers said you was worried about it and all—"

She blushed again and hugged herself.

"All's I'm saying is… I wasn't. Trying to get in your pants, that is. I made a move on you and snogged you because you've been great to me. So I hope you believe me, because that's what I got. I didn't mean to make you get upset, okay?" He paused. "I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'm sorry." _'There.'_

Clarice's light blue eyes filled with sadness. "I'm sorry, too, you see, I didn't know how to act, and I was rather taken aback, no one's done that to me, and if I said anything that hurt your feelings, then I truly regret it, because this summer has been really brilliant, and I _mean _that. And even if I've spent it with you and Piers on the hunt for that weirdo Sarah Cleelvans, it's at least been _memorable_. And at times, very fun. And that's more than I can say for my other summers!" She smiled.

Dudley snorted. "How is it that you can like, say what you're feeling in two seconds but it takes me forever?"

Clarice laughed, with a shrug. There was a pause. "Well, if you've never had a casserole before, you'd might as well stay. That is, if your mother will allow your palate to be ruined by something as unholy as leftovers—"

"I can risk it," he said.

--

"Mum likes you," Clarice said with a grin, as Dudley held the door for her and they walked back outside.

"Does she? Good," Dudley said, glad that at least one mother on the block approved of him. He _wanted _Mrs. Ryan to like him. After all, she wasn't a trifling wench like Sarah's mom seemed to be—but then again, he hadn't been discovered smoking out with Clarice by Mrs. Ryan… and Clarice hadn't escaped out of her window during the night to meet him at the park for sex. He hoped Sarah's mother had forgotten all about him.

"Yeah, she thinks you're funny and charming," Clarice said, making a face. "To each is own."

"Hey!" Dudley declared, and shoved her gently on the shoulder.

"Hey _D!" _

Dudley and Clarice turned around, and Dudley's stomach sank. Damien Price was coming up the sidewalk behind them. "Yo, Dudley!" he said again, when Dudley said nothing in return.

"Oh… Hey," Dudley nodded. "'sup?"

Damien pulled up his sagging shorts and nodded in response. He regarded Clarice with a sneer, and turned back to Dudley. "What's all this I hear about a reformation?"

"Huh?" asked Dudley.

"Everyone says you're _different _now. Soft."

Despite himself, Dudley stood a little taller. "Do I look soft?" he growled.

Clarice elbowed him in the side, but she didn't _get it! _She didn't understand how important it was to look tough and stay on top of the game.

"No, man, no," Damien said quickly. "You look _hella _hard. As always. But you, know, rumors!" He shrugged. "Which is why I'm here. I haven't seen much of you this summer."

"Yeah?" Dudley said aggressively.

"Well, are the _other _rumors true, then? You kick the habit?"

"…what?" Dudley asked, throwing a glance at Clarice, who was staring up at him with question in her eyes.

"Come on, Dudley. Are you clean? Or what? 'Cause I've got a deal, I got this sack here you might be interested in, I'm asking fifty quid—"

"You've got what?" Clarice asked.

"Don't listen to him," Dudley muttered, grabbing Clarice by the shoulder and attempting to turn around.

But Damien chuckled. "You want some, Dolly-Ryan? Come on, a special price for a first timer, eh? Forty quid? Come on, Big D, treat the lady to a toke, maybe then she won't be so frigid, relax her a little bit, get those bows out of her hair—"

"YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE!" Dudley bellowed, and before he realized what he was doing, he was gripping Damien by his collar, dangling him a few meters above the ground.

"Dudley, don't! Please!" Clarice commanded. "Put him down!"

Dudley glared at Damien, who was silent, wanting to give him a nasty blow he'd never forget. "You'd be best leaving Clarice alone," he snarled, his accent changing like it had when he saw Sarah the other night," you don't look at her, you don't talk to her—"

"Sure, man, you got it—" Damien said quickly.

Dudley dropped him to the ground. "That's how I'll _always _have it," he declared. "Come on, Clarice, let's go."

As Damien walked off with a furious expression, Clarice looked up at Dudley and shook her head. "I hope you know that, although I'm glad you didn't buy anything from him, I was not impressed."

"I would've socked him, too, but I didn't think—"

"You shouldn't have done _anything!" _she exclaimed. "Just ignore him! IGNORE HIM!"

"Yeah, but he was saying shit—"

"Yes, well, eventually you have to understand that a lot of people are going to, as you put it, _say shit_. But irregardless of how many tantrums you throw, or how many people you can beat up, in the real world, people are not going to listen to you! It's going to make your life much worse, believe me! And besides, Dudley," she said, softening her voice a bit," there's nothing better than a bloke who says what he's thinking instead of acting out with violence—"

Dudley stared. "You are the _most _confusing girl! Most girls love it when I do that—"

"What girls?" demanded Clarice. "Sarah? Because a _fine _example of a girl she is! I'm between being happy that you like me and being repulsed by the fact that you like me _and _dated Sarah Cleelvans! She's not worth it! And I'd like to think that I am!" Her voice broke and she sighed. "I don't know what I'm even _saying."_

He cringed, feeling uncomfortable. "I guess I'd better go."

"Just—don't listen to me anymore, okay? I have a completely unrealistic view of the world."

"Don't say that!" Dudley told her adamantly, and watched, horrified, as she buried her face in her hands and began to cry. "Hey—hey, what happened? Did I say something—"

"Yes, no—I don't know!" she burst out.

"Hey," he said again, and patted her shoulder awkwardly as she sobbed into her hands. "Hey... I can go, you know..."

She moved closer to him, sniffling, and then buried her face in the crook of his arm, much like she had during the movie. Except this time, it was a much different feeling. He wrapped his arms solidly around her shoulders and squeezed her tightly. "I think--- everything's going to turn out all right," he said, trying to sound confident.

"You know as well as I do that there's no way of telling," she said in a whisper.

"Well—if you let me kiss you again, then we wouldn't have to be talking about this depressing shit anymore," he said with a hopeful expression.

There was a pause. Clarice looked up and him, and immediately started to laugh. "Mum may be right about the other stuff," she started," but you're still a dope."

Dudley grinned. "Am I gross, though?"

"Sometimes not as much as usual," she replied, shoving his large arm. "I'd better go."

"Yeah, okay, but… don't be sad," he offered.

"I won't," she said and waved, smoothing out her yellow sundress and walking back toward Number One Privet Drive.

* * *


	20. Reaching Up to Grip the Grass

AN: Thanks for hanging on! Okay… Just so you know, the Dementor attack in Chapter 7 was completely changed to become DH compliant, and also correspond to the information that JKR gave out about Dudley during an interview. I'd like it very much if you read it—I'm going to reference some of those points in other chapters (including this one). Sorry to change it up! But I felt awkward not being canon in this fic, and also, JKR's explanation didn't quite make sense to me… so I had to work it out on my own. Ooh, I'm so independent. Ha.

I'm really lucky to have Psych 110 as I write this fic—it's really helped as we're studying memories, and the act of repressing them. (Plus parenting styles, weight issues... etc.)

Anyway, read _and _review!

--

* * *

**Chapter Twenty- Reaching Up to Grip the Grass**

* * *

"Are you certain you have nothing else, Piers?" asked Petunia, as Dudley loaded the two suitcases into their minivan.

"Nope," Piers shrugged. "That's all." Since his mother was in France, the Dursleys had agreed to give him a lift to school. ("Couldn't very well walk, could he?" Vernon had demanded to no one in particular at the breakfast able. "Although it might give him some needed muscle! The boy's a limp fish!')

"Come on," said Dad from the car," we don't want to be stuck in traffic."

"Wouldn't want _that_," whispered Dudley, making a face, as Clarice and Piers laughed. They all grinned at each other a bit uncomfortably. It seemed strange that school was starting again. Piers and Dudley were heading back to Smeltings, where they'd reapplied as room-mates, and Clarce was returning to the local school, Stonewall. Dudley wondered what would have happened if Harry had gone there like he was supposed to—would he have still been able to do magic? Would Dudley and Harry have gotten along better, being that they'd have had an opportunity to hang out during holidays? Would Harry have been friends with Clarice? Would Dudley have ever encountered the Dementors? Dudley shook himself out of the daydream.

"Thanks a lot, really," Piers was saying as Clarice hugged him tightly. "It was fun—"

She stepped back and smiled. "Sure was. You'd better write me. Who knows? Maybe you'll get lucky and find someone—"

"At Smeltings. Yeah right," Piers blushed, and he and Dudley looked away from each other in mutual awkwardness.

Clarice and Dudley then shared a glance. Petunia was watching from the car in obvious intrigue.

Dudley cleared his throat. "Well—uh—thanks. And… yeah."

"Same to you. Both of you," she said seriously, throwing a rather bright smile at Petunia, who smiled back, though inquisitively. "Er…" she lowered her voice. "Being that your mum looks like she's going to cross-examine me, let's act like we've never… hugged before." They stood there for a few seconds; it felt lame not to hug her goodbye, but it made them laugh at least. "Take care of yourself, Dudley Dursley," she said. "Remember all the stuff we talked about, okay?"

"You too," he said seriously.

She bit her lip and nodded. "I will."

Vernon honked the horn. "Come on, son! I've seen our grass grow faster!"

Clarice and Dudley laughed again and he and Piers got in the car.

"Bye!" Clarice waved. "I'll see you for hols, yeah?"

"Yeah, see you then!" Piers said.

"Nice to see you!" Petunia said loudly.

"Yes, nice to see you, too, Mrs. Dursley and Mr. Dursley!"

Dudley waved as the van took off down Privet Drive.

Petunia turned around and raised her eyebrow. "Well, what a delightful little girl!" she exclaimed, searching Dudley's face for any indication of interest. "And she's not your girlfriend, Piers?"

"Nope," Piers said.

"Well, Diddy, what do you think of her?"

Dudley made sure not to give her any clues. "What? Oh, she's... cool," he said indifferently, making his jaw go all slack as though he had no idea about what she was saying.

Piers shook his head and grinned, knowing the game all too well.

--

"Are you _sure _you don't need any help with that?" Piers asked.

Dudley, who was carrying three suitcases over his shoulder and pulling a fourth, grunted a 'no'. Piers carried a very small bookbag of his and sighed. "You know," he said," I _can _manage it—"

"If you jinx me and I fall, I'll kick your ass," Dudley declared.

Piers snorted. "Fine, then!"

"It's faggy Polkiss—"

"And Dursley, look."

"How'd you miss him? Oink, oink, oink!"

Dudley and Piers both sighed, as Colin Bard and his gaggle of geniuses walked toward them. They looked more or less the same, their white button-up shirts tucked primly inside their Smeltings jackets, but Dudley noticed Colin had grown a few inches. He and Piers were opposites with their sagging school trousers and untucked shirts, Piers' wallet with the chain hanging down one leg.

_'Ignore them,' _Dudley told himself, feeling his blood get hot. _'Ignore them, ignore them, IGNORE.' _

The boys paused in front of them, but he and Piers did just as Clarice would have hoped for, walking right past as though they'd never laid eyes on them before in all their lives.

--

"Well, would you look at _this _handsome young man!" Nurse Higgs exclaimed, as Dudley walked in for his first check-in.

He went pink. "Naw," he said.

"No, Dudley, _really-- _you've lost weight! You really have! Over the _summer!" _she shouted, bounding toward him, the glasses on a chain around her neck flopping up and down.

"Er… do you want _everyone _to hear?"

"Yes!" she proclaimed. "Look at you! Just look! Oh, you look great—how many times a week did you work out?"

"I ran for an hour five times a week and lifted weights every day," he shrugged. "They wasn't _heavy _weights, they was Dad's though... Plus, I pretty much stuck to the diet—"

"You DID?" she declared with a big smile. "Well, that's unheard of! Preposterous!"

He grinned. "Heh, yeah, a little bit."

"Coach White is going to be _so _pleased!"

Dudley couldn't help but feel pride as she took his new measurements. He'd dropped down half a stone, which for him was an immense change. But neither Mum nor Dad had noticed (or at least said anything) since the beginning of the summer, so Dudley had been feeling as though his efforts were not visible. But from the way the nurse was acting, Dudley could tell that his workouts had not been in vain.

--

Classes were turning out to be fair. Dudley had English (reading-based), Advanced Algebra, Weight-Training and Atmospheric Sciences. Malcom and Gordon were both in Dudley's Weight-Training, but they avoided eye contact with both him _and _each other. It seemed that with Dudley no longer leader, and with the brief leader Dennis at Saint Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurable Criminal Boys, the entire gang had crumbled apart.

"Do you suppose Harry and Dennis will be friends now?" Piers asked amusedly during lunch during the second month of school.

Dudley looked up from his steamed carrots. "Huh? Why?"

"Y'know. Saint Brutus' isn't that big of a school, is it?"

"Wha'? Oh," Dudley said quietly, trying to think fast, which was definitely not something he did easily. "Well, see, Harry's… uh… he's been…" He paused for a second.

Piers looked confused. "What?"

"He went sort of crazy and got expelled. So he doesn't go there anymore." _'Shit,' _Dudley thought darkly._ 'Why'd I have to make up something I know Piers'll be interested in?!'_

Sure enough, Dudley knew his friend. Piers perked up. "Really? What'd he _do? _Man, I thought he wasn't hard! Did he stab someone? Wow, he's hard?"

"He's not!" Dudley declared. "He… well… I actually…" Dudley was notgood at making up such elaborate details. He could tell Mum and Dad he was going out to 'tea' when that's not where he was off to, and he could tell Sarah he loved her when he hadn't. But an actual, well-thought out lie? He really wasn't capable. He knew his limits. "Actually, I don't... know," he said shortly, and put a forkful of chicken in his mouth.

Piers looked unsatisfied, his facial expression reminding Dudley slightly of Petunia, but changed the topic to football.

During the nights in the first couple of months at Smeltings, all Dudley could do was think about how it would have been if it had been him who got busted for marijuana and painkillers. It satisfied him slightly that Dennis had been busted—it made competition a lot less at Smeltings, and also, he'd been smug over the fact that the pills Malcom said were missing from his bathroom cabinet had been stolen by Dennis, too. However, the fact that he could have been caught was sort of insane. Dudley had never brought weed to school, but that was beside the point. He could have been caught on Privet Drive countless times; he'd been blazed over than half of the days during that dreary summer before Year Eleven when they were fifteen. He was extremely lucky Harry didn't tell Mum and Dad. Harry didn't care enough to do that, but still… it made life a lot easier for Dudley.

He imagined Saint Brutus as an old-time institution, with straight-jackets and torture devices, like the mental hospitals he'd seen on television and in horror movies. He wondered if the all-girls alternative school was like that, too. He could imagine Sarah in only a straight-jacket and her pink heels. It was a funny image ultimately, but still a little creepy and hot. _'Quit thinkin' about her,' _he reminded himself. But seeing her again had definitely brought back an onslaught of feelings and memories. However, he didn't feel like he was the same person at all. He had more energy these days. During that summer, everything had been sweltering and sluggish.

And then there were the memories of the "Dementors."

Those terrible thoughts that the "Dementor" had brought to him kept coming back. Last year, he had been much too shell-shocked by Sarah and his mates abandoning him to think of the true root of his mass depression. But now, it often came floating back like the hazes of fog during the summertime. He couldn't help but wonder if those memories he'd had of himself were how everyone viewed him. He looked so unhappy—it had showed in _every _memory, at _every _age! Even as a baby, was he a horrible, repugnant brat? And why would his mum and dad let him be like that, always screaming and throwing things? _'Maybe 'cause of Mum's miscarrying,' _he thought sadly, massaging the leg he'd sprained during training that day. He certainly did not remember himself being a terror. But enough people sure seemed to think it—Mrs. Figg, Clarice before this past summer, Veronica, Harry, Piers had been iffy, and Mrs. Ryan had hinted at his meanness as a kid.

Dudley wished he could find some memory to counteract all of the bad shit that people had said about him, but finding ultimately positive memories was a load harder.

He'd looked so… awful. So unhappy and revolted with life, shoveling food into his mouth. He couldn't get over it. It wasn't as though he'd never seen himself from the outside before—the Dursley home was filled wall to wall with pictures of his shining face, but that was just it. Those were not candid shots. Those were portraits for Mum, hands folded under chin, brandishing a rattle or a teddy bear, hugging a blanket, gnawing on a spoon, holding up a lit birthday cake, posing in the Smeltings uniform…

What Dudley had been forced to see two summers ago was not at all posed. He'd felt humiliation, yes, in third year when his school trousers had ceased to fit… but he hadn't been able to see how ridiculous he looked, his bulky backside and a hole right in the middle of the material. Dudley blushed just remembering the vision. He also cringed, remembering how he'd demanded at age thirteen that another television be set up in the kitchen so he wouldn't have to walk from the fridge to the living room. He could still feel how hard it had been; he'd been out of breath constantly, he'd knock things off the walls with his immense bulk as he trudged in and out of the kitchen. He'd eaten through bag after bag of crisps while watching senseless television shows that he didn't even like very much, and had only ventured out of the house to sit at the park with his gang. And even then, he'd be thinking about how he was missing out on food at home. How had he lived like that?

_'What was I doing?' _Dudley wondered. It all seemed very preposterous. He had a pang of anger at Mum and Dad for letting him live his life that way. He wondered why they had given into his demands, and why they hadn't proposed that he become more active, or find some other hobby besides sitting around. Tensing up, he also wondered why they'd never questioned him on the fact that he was a bully. He'd _constantly _come home with notes from his teachers but his parents never raised an eyebrow about it. Dudley had never really thought too hard about why he'd beaten kids up, but now that he was actually trying to decipher it, he realized that most of the people he targeted had made fun of him in some way, especially for his weight. This was odd, because he'd never thought he cared too much about his size—after all, it wasn't until his forced upon-diet in fourth year that he'd changed his behavior, and even then, he did it begrudgingly. He had wanted to prove he didn't care.

And when Mary-Anne Johns had shagged him that summer before fourth year, Dudley had felt like he was just saying 'fuck you' to the world. Even being overweight, he had had sex with two girls and attracted others. He'd never thought about the situation this way before, but he suddenly saw how triumphant he'd felt after Mary-Anne wanted _him_, and not Piers, Malcom, Gordon, or Dennis—all of whom were much more in shape. But she'd requested "the chubby one." And though he'd been slightly miffed at this assessment of himself, Dudley had been all too eager to show off. As long as he was attractive to certain girls, the fat jokes, pig gibes, goody-goody Dursley taunts and other insults didn't hurt as much. And soon, it didn't hurt at all.

Fourth year had been a terror. The diet was like quitting life cold turkey. It was lucky Coach White had seen the size of him and made an acute judgment of his punching skills or else Dudley would have had absolutely nothing to do with himself. And when he'd bulked up some of that fat into muscle, Dudley had felt like he was proving everyone wrong again. Sarah was no big surprise to him at that point—he'd always been good at building his ego. He wanted desperately to know what Mum and Dad would say if he told them all of this. If he told them about getting fucked by a girl in the bathroom at the park at thirteen? About the truth of Sarah, and his gang? He wondered if they'd freak out on him.

The slight rage at his parents' irresponsiveness faded though when he decided it wasn't going to change anything at all to blame them for the way his earlier years had gone. He had reason to be upset, that he could tell, but he felt that if he spent too much energy pointing fingers at them, that he was somewhat missing the point.

Keeping to the diet both last year and during the summer had been a big boost. Being friendly to Clarice had been beneficial too, and not shagging anyone had been up high on the list, though utterly distressing. Dudley had broken ties with his gang, mended ties with Piers, told Sarah _nicely _to get going, quit beating up kids and was working out now every time he felt angry or hungry at a bad time.

Dudley had all ready noticed that his friendlier way of speaking was a lot more popular with the teachers than grunting and rolling his eyes. Colin's gang had given up on taunting him and Piers, and Dudley hadn't gotten a fat joke since the first couple weeks of school. He figured it was because he wasn't giving anyone a reason to hate on him. Life seemed worth living.

The only other thing Dudley wanted to work on was puzzling together his past.

--

"Dursley, I want to see you after class."

A series of _oohs _rang out among the boys and despite knowing he'd done nothing wrong, Dudley reddened and searched his brain for a reason. He was fairly well-behaved in Miss Hunt's class; he'd liked her help last year, and she was the only attractive female teacher at the school. He wondered if she thought he might have cheated on the test yesterday, but the fact was, he'd only been looking at other peoples' papers because the test seemed too easy. Dudley knew there must have been some mistake.

When the bell rang, Piers shrugged at Dudley and left. Dudley shrugged back and stood up, knocking the desk a little as he did so. He took his time gathering up his things and then shuffled slowly toward the teacher's desk, where she was leaning over, checking her planner. Her long brown hair fell in front of her face and she pushed away a strand.

_'Hot,' _thought Dudley and paused in the front row, leaning against the first desk. "You wanted to see me, Miss?" he muttered slowly.

"Yes," she said in her cute Irish accent, taking a moment to write something down with a red marker and then looked up at him, smiling. "I was hoping I could talk to you about your interest in reading—"

"I have an interest in reading?" he asked.

"That's just the thing, in'it?" she laughed, shaking her hair out of her face. "I want to encourage you to start reading books for pleasure, or at least _learning how _to read books for pleasure."

Dudley narrowed his eyes. "I'm not in trouble?"

"Not this time. See, since last year, you've been focusing a lot harder on actually _doing _the homework assigned, and reading the material. Your former professor, Mr. Hap, could hardly believe that when I told him—"

"Well, he was a wanker!" Dudley said.

"Dursley," she warned. "Anyway, I wish you'd consider making reading a pastime—"

"But I can just rent the movies from the books," he protested.

She crossed her eyes at him. "Believe me, Dursley, you miss _a lot _when you do that! Sometimes half the book!"

"Well, then I wouldn't be mad about it, would I? 'Cause I wouldn'tve read the thing!"

"I think it's time you branched out a little more, though, don't you? You can't very well watch tele while you're waiting at the airport, or stuck in a traffic jam!"

"I could... listen to music," Dudley challenged, grinning.

She pretended to choke herself. "Honestly, you're a real case. I can't force you into anything, I know _that _is a fact, but I have two personal favourites that I think you should give a try." She rummaged around on her desk and seized two paperbook novels, handing them to Dudley.

He looked down at the covers—both books looked worn and kind of plain. _Lord of the Flies_ was the title of the first book and _The Catcher in the Rye _was the title of the second. "And these are for me?" he asked.

"Yes," she said," and you'd better read them, because I'm going to invite you in for a discussion of both novels at the end of term—"

"Am I getting points?" Dudley demanded, looking shocked. "Is this a punishment—"

"Honestly, you take everything too seriously. NO, it's not punishment. It's for _fun. _Besides, I'm giving you more than half a year to read two books—"

"I'm a slow reader—"

"Not THAT slow!" she said. "Don't try to back out of it."

He sighed. "Well… I'll try. But I might forget."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make sure you remember."

Dudley knew she meant business. But he'd never read a book besides to earn credit for school, since he was a very small child. And even then, Petunia had read to him. Once, Dad had read to him, and halfway through the book, had gotten angry with how long the story was and had completely changed it so that Dudley had to go to bed earlier. He snorted at the memory.

Miss Hunt shook her head. "You're definitely interesting, Dursley."

"You too, Miss," he said. "That all?"

"There's one last thing," she said, and held up a paper for him to see. It was yesterday's test on some of the reading for comprehension concepts in their textbook. He'd gotten an eighty percent.

Dudley pretended to be unexcited, shrugged, and strutted out of the classroom, slamming the door behind him. Once outside, he leaned against the wall and smiled.

--

"Clarice is doing good," Piers announced, skimming over a letter on a light blue piece of stationary.

"Yeah?" Dudley asked in what he hoped came off as an uninterested voice while sprawled out on his bed with an open science book, the words a blur. He'd been cramming for The Smelts, the winter exams at school. The only treat about the exams was everyone got to be uniform-less for a week.

Piers went on. "She says she's started talking to people about other crap besides homework—" Dudley snorted—"and she ran for class president. She lost to some popular girl but still, I mean, she's shy… that's tight."

_'Did she ask about me?' _thought Dudley lamely, tracing his thick finger over a diagram in the textbook.

"Oh, and she says she's got interesting news," Piers said, reading slowly. "'_I'm waiting until next week to tell you in person,'_ that's what she says."

They shrugged at each other. "Fucking glad it's gonna be hols," Dudley said appreciatively.

"Fuck yeah." Piers looked back down at the letter. "Oh, yeah, and she also says to give her love to Big D. Lots of kisses and hugs," he said stonily.

Dudley sat up a little. "She does--?"

"No!" Piers burst out laughing.

"Oi!" Dudley declared.

"That was perfect—"

Dudley grinned. "Whatever, you know she just forgot to put that." Piers shook his head and folded up the letter.

--

"Why, _hello!" _announced Petunia, opening the door wide and stepping aside for Clarice to come through. "Welcome to our home. So glad you could make it this time."

"Thanks, Mrs. Dursley," Clarice smiled, as Dudley's mum took Clarice's coat and hung it on the rack. Dudley grinned at her; her blonde, curly hair was full of little bits of melting snow. It seemed strange to see her in a light purple sweater and jeans with big snow boots instead of a sundress, but she looked cute as ever. He didn't quite get the same rush as last time he'd seen her, though.

"Isn't she adorable?" sighed Yvonne, a black-haired robust woman with clothes just as boring as Dudley's mother and a new diamond ring she'd been showing off to anyone who came in the house. Yvonne had been Petunia's only cohort since Dudley could remember, and was a regular fixture during Christmas holiday, when she and Petunia would gossip for hours. Dudley had all ready gotten an earful about Yvonne's fiancé, who was some sort of small-claims-court lawyer and brought her chocolates at work. Dudley could _hardly _wait for Yvonne to leave—Petunia would waste no time in completely ripping apart whatever Yvonne had told her.

"Oh, she's just _adorable,_ Petunia." Dudley knew they'd been discussing The Girl who was 'little Dudder's new friend', and trying to decide if she was dating either Dudley or Piers.

Clarice seemed a bit taken aback at the greeting committee, particularly when Yvonne grabbed a strand of her hair and wanted to know if it was her natural color.

"Hey!" Piers greeted cheerfully. "All right?"

"'sup?" nodded Dudley.

She beamed. "I've actually missed you lot!"

Petunia raised an eyebrow at the 'actually', but said nothing. "And so, Clarice, what _does _your mother do?"

Clarice was about to answer, when Dudley expressed a fear that his mother's shortbread cookies might be burning. With a 'Thank you, sweetums,' she went off to attend to them. Yvonne winked and ruffled Dudley's hair, then followed Petunia. "Oh, Tune, the kids are adorable— oh! You did that yourself? You _must _get me the recipe," they heard her saying.

Dudley shrugged. "I figured if I didn't do something, Mum'd quiz you on all the stuff in your entire life—"

"I think she's nice," Clarice said. She looked at Dudley expectantly and when he said nothing she asked: "Can we sit down?"

"Oh, yeah," Dudley put in, reddening a little bit. "Dad made a fire earlier in the living room… though I think he burned half his mustache off doing it—"

"Honestly," Piers said solemnly, at Clarice's clear skepticism. They headed down the hallway, past the kitchen where Petunia was now mopping the floor, and Dudley led the way into the room.

Clarice's eyes widened. "Your—your _tree—" _

"What? What about it?" Dudley asked, peering at the Christmas tree behind the television. It wasn't large—his parents never outdid themselves treewise. In fact, Dudley was beginning to discover that the only reason why they _had _a tree was that so the neighbors would think they were normal. They'd gone through this with religion, too: Once, the family had gotten all smartened up and left the house at the exact same time that Mrs. Next-door went to mass and exchanged friendly conversation with her about it, too. But as soon as they got into the car, they simply drove into town and had breakfast in a restaurant. In the Dursley household, the Christmas holiday meant presents. Not trees, decorations, myths, religion, or anything else. Just presents. It was then that Dudley realized what Clarice was staring at.

"That's _got _to be in the hundreds!" she proclaimed, running over to the tree, and inspecting all of the different shaped boxes with perfect paper and ribbons. "Are these… all your family's?"

"What? You think we're like, renting 'em?" Dudley asked thickly. "Yea', they're ours. They always do this."

"They've… they've all practically got _your _name on them! I knew you were spoiled, but that_'s silly_!" Clarice exclaimed.

"Think that's bad? He used to count them," Piers said in a low voice, his expression a small grin.

Clarice turned and stared at Dudley, who nudged Piers. "COUNT them?"

Dudley sighed, going red _again. _"Well… yes. I—"

"Why?"

"To… make sure I had enough…"

Clarice's mouth dropped open. She marched back to him and slapped him in the stomach. "That's awful!"

Piers pointed and cracked up.

"I know—I was thick-- look! Can we change the subject?"

She scowled and shook her head. "Counting your gifts; I _swear!"_ But she laughed and so Dudley knew she wasn't really as irritated as she looked.

As soon as they'd all situated themselves around the Dursley parlour, Clarice cleared her throat. "Well. Let me say this. I have some highly odd news."

"You're here to say to us that you wanna be like how we used to be, so you're gonna ask us if we can teach you how to be badass?" proposed Piers.

Dudley started laughing uproariously.

"NO!" Clarice said, snickering. "No, actually, starting in November, Sarah Cleelvans switched from the alternative school to Stonewall—"

Dudley immediately quit laughing. His mouth fell open, as though he were in a stupor. "She WHAT?"

" Dudley, could you please not look at me like that? You look deranged—"

Piers whistled. "_Clarice? _ Okay, you have to tell us—"

"Is she still crazy?" Dudley demanded, looking freaked out.

Clarice nodded. "Well… to a certain degree. I mean, I'm sure she's weirder with you than she is in school, but I got the basic idea when I heard her talking about how she's going to find you—"

"Me?"

Clarice ignored Dudley and went on: "…and how you really, truly do love her. And how you're some big boxing champion, her big protective boyfriend, blah blah blah."

"Well," said Dudley loudly, "I _am _that. A big boxing champion, that is."

"Shut up," Clarice smiled, and then bit her lip, sitting up straighter. "Anyway, she doesn't talk like that anymore."

Dudley and Piers both made identical faces. "Why?" Piers asked.

"I told her not to," Clarice said clearly, crossing her legs.

"Was it a GIRL FIGHT?" Dudley asked a little more loudly than he meant to. Piers kicked him.

Surprisingly though, Clarice shrugged. "I guess you could say that—"

"Oh—what went down?" Dudley asked excitedly. He imagined it like mud-wrestling with lots of clothes coming off. Both girls in their pants, now _that _was interesting. He had to tell himself to quit imagining those sorts of things so often; he knew Clarice would die of humiliation if she ever knew.

"Damn," Piers rolled his eyes and laughed. Piers probably knew the exact scenario that was playing in Dudley's mind.

"I just got really irritated about how she kept blathering on about you," Clarice shrugged, with no sign as to whether she knew what a catfight entailed in Dudley's mind. "I mean, no offense, but you're just not _that _amazing—"

Dudley pouted.

--"Oh, don't look like an abused puppy, Dudley, I'm only joking. But really, I was annoyed. She's delusional. So one day I heard her telling this group of girls how much you love her, and how you two spent the summer together, which is the biggest lie I've ever heard! Anyway, I just told her that you know, maybe she forgot, but you clearly have no interest in her, and that you told her that. I told her she should perhaps find someone who actually can stand her." Clarice shrugged. "Anyway, she didn't take so kindly to it. And basically lunged at me—and let's just say I'm lucky she didn't tear my hair out before a teacher got there!"

"You said WHAT?" Dudley asked, but Clarice was beaming and did not answer. "Wait—what? Why are you so damned happy?"

"That's never happened to me before!" Clarice said brightly. "I mean, it was exciting! You should have seen her face when the headmaster dragged her away! Though… she _did _say some fairly rude things to me. But still, I was thrilled!"

"That's creepy!" Piers announced.

"Little bit, yeah," Dudley said, but was smiling hugely," but… so, what, does she try to shank you every day now?"

"I don't know what that means and I don't wish to… She _does _leave me alone for the most part, but you know, she still writes 'Mrs. Dudley Dursley' all over her notebooks—"

"No," quavered Dudley," she doesn't!"

"Just kidding! Oh, that was a wonderful look, Dudley, you seem so small when you're terrified."

"You're evil," Dudley grinned.

"Who's evil?" Petunia asked, smiling and walking in with an assortment of cookies on a holiday plate. Yvonne stood in the doorway, winking merrily at all of them, flexing her ring finger.

"No one, Mum."

Clarice cleared her throat. "No one, Dudley? Mrs. Dursley, he was actually calling _me _evil."

Petunia looked astonished. " _Dudley--__?" _ She looked from her son to Clarice as though she were horrified. "What did you do to him?" she asked Clarice harshly.

"Nothing!" Clarice replied simply. "We were just joking."

"Oh!" Petunia said, looking relieved. "Well, then, that's good." She set the cookies down on the coffee table and walked stiffly out of the room, Yvonne chattering at her heels.

Dudley looked horrified. "Clarice!" he whispered. "What was _that?" _

"You should be more honest with your mother. That's all," said Clarice with another shrug of her small shoulders.

Thinking about this, Dudley said nothing. He wasn't sure how to respond. He'd always figured that lying to his mum was mandatory. She liked him being perfect, and he wanted to give her that satisfaction.

They put on a teen movie Clarice had brought, something Christmas-themed. Petunia kept bringing in new plates of cookies, and even though they were low-fat, they were still enjoyable. Dudley realized this was the first time he'd had a gathering at his house in years. When he and his gang would have "tea" when their families were out, it was usually held at either Dennis or Gordon's house. The Dursley living room seemed too formal, almost as though it wasn't prepared for three teenagers to be spread out on the couch and chairs.

What seemed like minutes later, Clarice glanced at the clock on the mantle. "Oh! It's eleven—I should be getting home to bed, we have to Christmas shopping in the morning!"

"Oh," said Dudley, trying not to sound disappointed. "Well, uh…"

Piers rolled over on the couch and muttered something in his sleep. Both Clarice and Dudley laughed. She stood up and ran her hands through her blonde hair, looking at the floor. Dudley said nothing.

"Well…" Clarice began," You should probably ask me now if I'd like you to escort me home."

Dudley blinked. "I—what?"

"Go on," she said quietly, with a wave of the hand, still averting her gaze.

He cleared his throat. _'What?' _he thought again. "Do you… want me... uh, to walk you home?" he managed to get out, feeling more than a little foolish.

She looked at him. "That's nice of you—it's really a short distance, but… I suppose I wouldn't mind taking you up on the offer!" She smiled.

Dudley chortled in spite of himself. "Right then, come on."

After they'd put on their boots and coats, they trudged out into the whipping wind. The sky was almost pure white.

"Cold winter," she remarked, shivering.

Dudley nodded. They began to walk slowly to Number One, Dudley's heart beating a little faster, wondering why she had asked him to walk her home. Did she just want him to be polite? Why hadn't she woken up Piers and asked him instead? Should he put an arm around her? Hold her hand? She was shrinking away from him, so that made everything all the more confusing. He kept his hands in his pockets and they were silent until they reached her porch.

"I had fun," she said. "It was nice watching a movie with you lot that wasn't about blood."

He grinned.

" Dudley," she said, looking up, somewhere away from him. "I wanted to tell you… This—this boy at school—" she paused. "This boy told me he fancies me, Dudley, his name is Mitchell—"

"Cool," he shrugged.

"I--I sort of fancy him, too," she said gently. "He's… he's really polite, and—and he's sort of quiet—he told me he liked me a few weeks before hols."

Dudley stared at her. "Oh—_okay._" He wasn't expecting **that**. Why was she telling him? "Good for you, I guess," he shrugged, hoping he didn't sound defeated. It wasn't that he thought he and Clarice were suddenly going to be going steady, but… he hadn't imagined her with anyone else.

"Oh, don't be like that—"

"I'm not_ bein'_ anything, Clarice. Good for you," he repeated, slowing down his tone. "'sall I said, a' right?"

She sighed, looking genuinely irritated. "Don't talk like a chav, Dudley, you only talk like a chav when you're pretending—"

Reddening, Dudley made his voice louder, but he used his actual accent. "Clarice, what do you know about it? Come on, honestly?! What do you understand about it?" he snarled, suddenly upset, reddening. "I mean, it's right nice the way you've been but I honestly don't get your game—"

"I'm not Sarah, Dudley, I'm not playing a game!" protested Clarice, throwing up her hands.

He rolled his eyes. "Think you are— all girls play games--"

"Well, isn't _that _the most brilliant thing!" she snapped sarcastically.

"I'm not brilliant," he said dully. "So good you noticed—"

"That's not what I meant!" Clarice said, her own tone of voice raising to match his, but getting choked. "You know it, too, you know it! Dudley, I _just _wanted to tell you that a boy at my school noticed me—it never used to happen, I've been talking more to boys, not being as dowdy, probably because of you and Piers—"

"**Good. For. You**," repeated Dudley slowly.

"I'm trying to thank you! Don't be mean!" Clarice pleaded.

He shook his head. "What do you even know about me? I _am _mean."

"NO, you're not, Dudley, that is so _weak _to say that—just because you acted mean for awhile doesn't mean you are—we went over this, you—"

"Whatever, Clarice, enjoy your nice boy. Like yea' said last summer, I'm not your type so… Happy Christmas," Dudley said bitterly, feeling two-timed, or jealous, or disappointed in himself. Or all of that at once. She was staring up at him like he was a monster, and he didn't blame her—he could see his shadow on the wall of the house taking her over. He turned around and started down the stairs. _'I shouldn't have ever liked her. I'll always be the same—' _

But then, he felt her pull her arms around his middle, grabbing onto the heavy material of his jacket. " Dudley," she said. He turned around to face her and she put her arms around his neck, staring up at him with her pale eyes. "I wasn't trying to hurt you—"

"You didn't hurt me," he said, instantly warming at her touch. "Why've you got your hands on me?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.

"I'm bad news, remember?" he responded. "A chav? Gross? Just get off."

" Dudley, when I said all of that, I wasn't trying to hurt you! I wasn't!" she exclaimed.

"Honest to fuck," he grunted, "you think you hurt my feelings?" But the twinge in his lip might have given him away.

"Don't say that word," she whispered into his jacket.

He ducked his head, and at that point, it wasn't clear who kissed who first, but he moved one large hand into her curls, pushing it into her hair and prodding her small lips with his firm ones. She kept her hands around his neck, tighter and tighter. She pulled her lips away and Dudley smirked at her.

"Thought I wasn't your type," he said.

"I thought I wasn't yours," she said back.

He ran his hand down the small of her back and kissed her again.

She slowly pulled her lips away. "Anyway, Dudley, you were never that bad of a bloke. A bit annoying, yeah—poser, most definitely, but not really _bad--_"

"Guess it was better to be seen as the bad boy than just the fat boy," he said stuffily. As soon as he said this, he knew it was completely true. Clarice seemed to sense the unintentional candidness of the statement, too, for she pressed herself closer to him.

"Oh Dudley," she said," I never thought of you as the fat boy—I just thought you were a bit bizarre—"

Dudley laughed shortly, and Clarice kissed him, her hands rifling through the hair on the back of his neck. The way she was stroking his hair gave him an odd feeling, like he felt that she could take care of him—and that he wanted to protect her. But suddenly, she shivered. Dudley opened his eyes and noticed that he could clearly see her breath, and then, instantly, his own—it hadn't been _this _cold just seconds ago. He got a jolting shiver, too.

"What's—do you feel a chill?" she asked, pressing closer to his chest and looking around.

He thought for a moment, his heart racing. He'd felt like this before, like he'd been plunged into ice water. And he remembered suddenly when that feeling had occured. _'Oh fuck,' _ he thought, his eyes widening. _'Summer. Me and Harry…' _

" Dudley, what's wrong?" she demanded, her voice shaky. She looked paralyzed in fear.

He tightened his grip on her waist. "Clarice, this is gonna sound crazy, but you should go inside—"

"No, I feel horrible, I think that's a good idea—"

"I know—" he stopped. "Just, we have to—we have to get inside—"

And although the icy feeling was probably burning Clarice as much as it was Dudley, they kissed again in what was becoming a looming darkness. He moved his hand down her back as she shuddered with the cold. He got a flash of desperation. _'Kill yourself,' _ he thought. _'It's not worth it, remember last time, you saw how worthless you are—' _

"Okay, you really have to go," Dudley urged, giving himself a shake. If a Dementoid came, it would easily have both their souls.

"But what's—"

"Baby, just go inside," he said throatily, before even thinking about his words.

Clarice paused, her breath coming out in short gasps. "Did you just call me—"

"Oh! Yeah, sorry," Dudley muttered, mortified, backing up. "G'night, Clarice—"

"Goodnight, Dudley Dursley," she said, still looking astonished, and ran past him, going inside her house and slamming the door. He waited in the cold for a few minutes, shifting his weight from foot to foot even though he could feel the pull of negativity. _'Why did I go and call her that? 'Baby'? What a pussy!' _

The curtain shifted in the front window, and Clarice looked out at him. On her face was the biggest smile Dudley had ever seen her wear. She waved to him and he waved back.

When she'd finally shut the drapes, Dudley looked back and forth before running as fast as he possibly could to Number Four.

* * *


	21. Don't Follow Me Down, Dinah

**AN: **Ah. This chapter was gut-wrenching for me to write. It was the most challenging and the most fun for me so far. The lyrics in one of the memories belong to TLC, "Das Da Way We Like 'Em"… 1992, represent.

Uh. I listened to a lot of music and had insomnia while I wrote this.

Please, _please _review. I want to know what you feel about it.

* * *

_"I'm just having _

_thoughts of _

_Marianne." _

_-TORI AMOS _

_-_

_"What if I had a thing on the side _

_Made you cry _

_Would the rules change up or _

_would they still apply _

_if I played you liked a toy? _

_Sometimes I wish I could act like a boy." _

_-CIARA _

_-_

_"Testosterone boys and harlequin girls _

_Won't you dance to this beat and hold a lover close? _

_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster." _

_-PANIC!AT THE DISCO _

_-_

**Chapter Twenty-One: Don't Follow Me Down, Dinah**

* * *

He darted into the house and locked the front door, panting. 

All three adults peered into the foyer.

"DUDDY?" screamed Mum, running at him. "You're pale as death—where did you _go—_what happened?"

"I'll make a pot of tea," nodded Yvonne, who looked as though she'd been at the wine.

Vernon made a face. "What's all this?" he demanded. "First Piers snoring on the couch like he lives here—what is it, Petunia? What's wrong with the boy?!"

"Gah," protested Dudley, patting Petunia, who was stroking his hair wildly like he was on his deathbed. "It's cold outside, Mum, 'sall." He shoved her aside, albeit gently.

"Where _were _you, Diddydums?" she questioned.

"I was walking Clarice home," he said nonchalantly.

Petunia's eyes seemed to mist over. "You were? You were! Yvonne, did you hear that? My boy walked Clarice _home-- _what a perfect little gentleman!"

"But of course!" Vernon said gruffly. "The boy's been raised well!"

Dudley felt like he'd just gotten off a very fierce expedition. He sighed. "Yes, well, everything's okay," and pulled off his boots with a dramatic flourish. He felt proud that he'd known about the Dementoids, _and _he'd saved Clarice, though she didn't know about them.

He looked into the living room, where Piers was still zonked out, one arm over the edge of the couch with his mouth open. Dudley grinned—it could have been ten years ago—and went upstairs to change to pajamas.

"Come on, Dudley, I made a pot of tea," called Yvonne.

Reluctantly, he trudged back downstairs. He rather liked Yvonne, if only because she was Petunia's only constant. Even then, Petunia judged her harshly behind her back. But still, she'd stuck with Mum since high school. "Hey," he greeted in a low voice as she poured the tea.

"I think you made your Mum cry, Dudders, she's so proud of you," Yvonne said unsteadily. Sure enough, there were empty wine glasses on the drainboard. "We all are."

"Yeah," Dudley said," thanks." He added his cream and sugar and snatched a chocolate biscuit, remembering what Harry had said about the Dementors last time.

"So proud," she smiled. "You've turned out nicely."

Dudley nodded boredly, and made to leave when she went on:

"I was worried for a while."

He instantly turned around. "Why?" he asked at once.

"You were cute at first, surely," she said," But then you got a little hardened. Yes, but _feisty_, a real bossy boots like Petunia!" She laughed and leaned against the counter, her engagement ring glittering.

Dudley was shocked. Not once had anyone told him he was like his mother. He used to be told he was like Vernon constantly, but now, he felt like neither of them. He'd never even considered himself like his mother—she was organized, clean, doting, a perfectionist. Dudley felt he was opposite her in every way.

"Why?" he prodded.

But it seemed Yvonne was on her own tangent. "Spoiled, too, but what child isn't? More tea, Dudders?"

Dudley shook his head rapidly. "I'm like Mum?"

"You're a good boy," she said with a smile," don't forget that."

--

_'What was that thing called that you saved us from?' Clarice asked breathlessly, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. It was snowing hard and below freezing. She was in a white tank top for some reason, though, and hardly anything else. Her nipples hardened underneath her shirt. _

_'Oh, you know. A Dementoid,' said __Dudley__, flexing his muscles. _

Dudley stopped to think. That still didn't sound right. _'Oh well.' _

_'It sucks the happiness out of you. Whatever. It's gone now. And I didn't even use magic.' _

_'Well, that's because you're strong.' _

_…_Wait. Clarice wouldn't say that. _'Oh well.' _

_'Thank you, Dudley,' she said sweetly, coming up to put her arms around his neck again. He could smell her hair. He looked down at her to kiss her. _

_But instead, it was Sarah. She pushed her hips against his groin and ground into him. 'Can I feel your muscles?' she asked. 'I like strong boys,' she said. _

Dudley turned over. _'Fuck.' _

_'You aren't mean,' Clarice said, then kissed him on the couch. _

_'You didn't really mean that,' Sarah said, nestled in his lap. Then, she was wearing a miniskirt and no panties, lying on the bed at Damien's. 'Come on, Big D. We don't have to use a condom…' _

Dudley groaned, and shifted again, his sheets tenting above his spread legs. _'Way to ruin my moment, you bitch,' _he thought, but the sensation of the imagined Sarah was so beautiful and violent that he couldn't shake the feeling.

Sarah reminded him of the part of himself he'd built. He didn't hate old Dudley, but he was different now—or, as Clarice had said, he was being more like himself. He squirmed to think what Clarice would think if she knew he'd beaten Sarah down into the park gravel. He _had _been drunk, but his capabilities scared him a bit. He hoped he'd never do that again—that wasn't the kind of bloke he wanted to be. He'd spent too much time fronting, trying to prove himself to his friends, and he hadn't even realized he was wasting his life.

He stared at the ceiling which hung white above him. Clarice completely believed he wasn't a truly bad person. But did he? He couldn't say. He never had thought he was too terrible until those Dementoids had shown up, and then the deal with Sarah had occurred, and Piers, and his gang, and his weight— Dudley sighed into his pillow. _'Surprised I didn't off myself last year,' _he thought, half-amusedly, half-worriedly, but the thought had never crossed his mind. Dudley seemed to plod through events without rationalizing them and he wasn't sure if that was a positive or negative thing.

Having a small encounter with the Dementors again that night made Dudley think back again to all of his memories of years passed. _'Who was I?' _he kept thinking. He'd gotten a little bit of help tonight, though he hardly saw himself in Mum.

_'What was the first bad thing I remember me doing?' _Dudley asked himself. He tried to recount his earliest thoughts, his earliest deeds. The first was not necessarily something he'd done to be bad. He could remember being at least two and falling down half a flight of stairs. He remembered screaming for hours and Petunia hugging him for just as long. He remembered her calling Daddy at work and crying, as though _she'd _done something wrong. As though it had been her fault.

He turned over. That thought made him very sad for some reason. The next he could remember was when Harry showed up one morning. He actually had heard more about this day than he could recall, but still, he knew he had been fascinated with the thought of another person who was about his size. At first, Harry had been a source of amusement, something like a toy to be prodded and poked. But when Harry didn't leave, and Mum had to pay attention to Harry, too, Dudley knew it was serious business. That was when he began to loathe Harry. Because Petunia and Uncle Vernon said 'no' so much to Harry, Dudley began to scream "No!" whenever he saw his cousin, whenever Harry would try to play with him, "No!". As soon as the boys were about four or five, Mum and Dad began to hand out food in rations.

Dudley remembered wanting to prove to Harry that he was the favourite, and to show him, he would eat double, triple the food Harry could just because he was allowed to. Even when he wasn't hungry. With a pang, Dudley wondered if that was where his "health issues" had begun.

Then, a memory came from a few years later. Dudley all ready recoiled at the thought of it, but it was too late. It was as though he were watching a movie—he knew this one so well.

…

_"No," _Dudley was saying,_ "I hate the teacher anyway." _Harry made a face as he watched Dudley gobble down a second helping of pancakes and eggs; Dudley distinctly remembered not being hungry that day. He'd only stuffed himself out of habit, since Harry could only have one serving.

_"I'll call and tell her she's just piling on the homework too thick," _Petunia said over her coffee,_ "you're only eight, Duddy, it's not like you should be expected to do so much every day." _

_"It's stupid," _Dudley put in, his mouth full, as he grabbed a sausage with his hand. He ate it savagely, and licked his fingers. His stomach growled achingly. He ignored the feeling and drank his milk.

Still looking disgusted, Harry turned to Mum._ "Aunt Petunia, I think the teacher's doing an okay job—" _

_"Well, no one asked you. Besides, you have nothing better to do than do your homework," _said Petunia sharply.

Dudley laughed at Harry and Harry glared at him.

_"I'd actually like more homework," _said Harry in a bright tone_. "I really like what we're learning." _

_"Preposterous," _Petunia said_," how strange—no child in his right mind would ask for more homework—" _

_"But I'm bored, Aunt Petunia, and I—" _

_"How dare you," _Petunia snapped shortly.

Dudley's stomach was beginning to really hurt but he couldn't stop eating. It was as though the sound of his own chewing could drown out both Mum and Harry's voices. He stuffed his mouth full of pancakes and swallowed hard. He was felt like he bursting so he finished his milk in a hard gulp. He paused and gave a belch, then winced and massaged his chubby stomach. Still, he grabbed another sausage.

_"What a good little eater," _Petunia smiled.

By this time, Dad had joined in on the argument, but Dad had a different approach_. "QUIT YOUR MISHMASH, BOY!" _he shouted from the doorway.

_"All I asked for was more homework," _Harry shrugged, looking at the two adults as though they were insane.

_"You heard Mummy," _Dudley said finally_," no one likes homework." He_ certainly didn't anywayHe didn't like anything that interfered with his playtime, or anything he didn't understand. He had no use for school. He used to like it okay, but not now. He'd always been bigger than the other kids, but this was the year when he started getting ridiculed for being overweight. He hated the other kids at school besides his gang, and the only fun thing to do was beating people up. He took another bite of pancake and bit his lip as he felt his stomach feeling too full, and not in a nourishing way. After finishing what was his third helping of breakfast, he finally set his fork down._ "I don't feel good," _he announced.

_"You'd better shape up!" _Vernon yelled at Harry, getting that crazy look in his eye. Everyone in the family knew to look away when he did that. _"And comb your hair; it looks awful! No one will take you seriously! How do you think I got into such an esteemed profession? Not by having loony hair, I tell you!" _

Feeling nauseous, Dudley held his stomach, rubbing it_. "I don't feel good," _he repeated, louder this time. He gave a little moan.

_  
_Petunia patted his arm, apparently seeing his actions as a need for more breakfast._ "Are you still hungry, Diddydums? You're a growing boy, you know—" _she smiled and served him more eggs, though her eyes were all the time fixed on Harry, as though daring him to make some other ludicrous comment about liking homework.

Dudley pouted._ "No Mummy, I can't-- I really don't feel good, it hurts—" _

_"Oh dear—_ _Vernon__, look at Dudders, he looks ill," _Petunia whispered in a shocked voice, finally taking into account Dudley's expression_. "That's it—you're staying home from school today—" _

_"May I be excused?" _asked Harry tersely.

_"Probably for the best, Petunia," _Vernon nodded, straightening his tie._ "I've got to be off but call me at dinner and let me know how he's doing." _He patted Dudley's head as he walked out of the kitchen.

Harry must have excused himself, because he had gone.

_"My poor baby," _said Petunia sweetly, standing up_, "we should get you up to beddy and you can rest—" _

_"I—I want to watch tele!" _Dudley managed to whine; a day in bed didn't sound very fun.

_"Well, we'll just set the extra television up in your room—we've been meaning to do so forever—" _

Dudley's stomach rumbled and he let out another burp. He could feel all the food he'd eaten rising up to his throat. He whimpered and tried to stand up, knowing he had to get to the bathroom, and soon. _"Mummy, I think—"_

_"You can just get straight back into your pajamas and—" _

_"MUMMY!" _Dudley said urgently_. "I think I'm going—" _At that, he threw up **everything**, right there at the table.

…

Sixteen-year old Dudley winced. He wished it hadn't really been like that—he could remember feeling disgusted and teeming—and looking back, he realized he must have _looked _disgusting, too. Gross. Vying for attention, making sure he had everything Harry didn't, making himself _sick _in the process. He could think of at least ten other memories that played out exactly like that one: two when he was seven, more at age nine, one when he was twelve—the only difference was, his capacity for food increased as he aged and got larger, and he stopped throwing up—at least as much.

The first time he'd felt physically ill since being little had been last summer actually, with Mum's steak and kidney pie. Mum and Dad had not only allowed the ravenous eating, it had been encouraged. When Dudley went off to Smeltings, Mum especially let him pig out. She didn't like the fact that Smeltings wouldn't allow him to eat as much as he "needed to."

Primary school. Dudley sighed at the mere thought.

…

He and Piers, Malcom, Gordon and Dennis were sitting at the base of the monkey bars at recess, passing around a bag of crisps, licking their fingers and laughing at the kids playing. They used to sit at the top of the playtoy but now it took Dudley too much effort to climb to the top. He was easily the tallest and largest, but Dennis was tall too, and Malcom and Gordon were stout and only a bit smaller in width than Dudley.

It was the same year as the previous memory.

_"Dudley Dursley can barely walk through the door," _said a boy a few years older than Dudley, whose name was Thomas.

The younger boys looked at each other—usually they beat people up who made such comments (and not many people dared to) but there was no way they were going to have a go at a ten year old.

_"What are you gonna do about it, Dursley? Hit me? Like you did my little brother? He's **six**! Wicked cool, Dursley!" _

By this time a small crowd had gathered. The gang was dismayed to see that this group consisted of mostly victims from their year. Harry stood to the side, looking amused.

_"Fat pig, that's all you are!" _said Thomas. _"All of you! Stupid and fat!" _He glared at all of them in turn and then paused. _"Well, Polkiss, you're just stupid." _

They tried to look tough. The other kids laughed, probably thrilled someone else was picking on Dudley's gang for a change. Dudley could see Harry giggling, too.

_"Gonna hit me, Dursley? Come on, get off your fat ass and hit me!" _

_"Shut up," _Piers said suddenly in a shrill voice, _"you're dumb—" _

_'"Shh!" _Malcom mouthed, punching him.

_"All a bunch of stupid sods," _Thomas laughed meanly and walked off.

The little gaggle of on-lookers laughed, too, until they realized there was nothing between them and Dudley now. As soon as Thomas was out of sight, Dudley frowned menacingly.

_"Think that's funny?" _he asked, looking right at Harry.

_"Yeah! What's so funny?" _Dennis shouted, his eyes insane. _"What's so funny, huh?"_ One by one, the gang stood up and the kids walked backward.

_"Laugh again and I'll kill you," _Dudley threatened darkly, his blue eyes locked into Harry's green ones.

After school, the students poured out of the building and Piers and Dudley walked to the cement statue as usual, where they met Harry to walk home. But he wasn't there. Uncaring, Piers and Dudley began to walk home when they realized Harry was just a few paces ahead of them—he must have wanted to get an early start.

_"Potter?" _shouted Piers with that trademark cackle that set fear into the hearts of the neighborhood children.

Harry turned around.

Dudley pointed his chubby finger at Harry. _"Get him, Piers," _he commanded.

Piers grinned, Harry's eyes widened, and they both sped off. Piers always was the one to catch the victims because Dudley couldn't run fast at all. Harry was quick, but Piers was lucky that day, and came back dragging Harry by his collar. _"Here you go, __Dudley__,"_ he said, shoving Harry into Dudley's arms.

_"Thought it was funny?" _Dudley asked, pulling Harry's arms behind his back and pulling him, struggling, to the sidewalk.

_"No!" _Harry responded breathlessly.

Piers seized Harry's hands and kept them against the cement as Dudley began to thrash Harry in the nose. Those stupid glasses fell to the pavement.

_"You want to say something?" _Dudley barked, slamming his fist into Harry's face.

_"No," _Harry repeated, too calm for Dudley's liking. _"No, Dudley—" _

Dudley slammed his small cousin down against the pavement and wiped his brow_. "Okay, Piers, let's go."_ Piers released Harry in a shove and they walked off down the street, Dudley bright pink and Piers throwing glances back at Harry, who was still lying on the sidewalk.

_"Bye, __Dudley__," _Piers waved, when he'd reached his house and Dudley kept walking, still furious.

Once he got inside, Mum had cookies waiting for him on the table. After getting a kiss on the cheek, Dudley sighed. _"Am I fat?" _he asked her.

Petunia's eyes darkened. _"No! Where did you get that idea?" _

_"Nowhere," _said Dudley. He wouldn't tell her Thomas' name—he didn't want the kid to torment him any further.

_"You're a growing boy, Diddy, you aren't **fat**," _she told him. _"You can eat anything you like and you can eat as much as you want. You know that." _She ruffled his hair.

Dudley shrugged, feeling slightly better. He took the plate of cookies into the living room and ate the whole dozen while mindlessly watching television.

Harry came home ten minutes later than Dudley and got a harsh talking-to.

…

_"FREAK! FREAK! YOU'RE A FREAK!" _chanted Dennis, pointing at Harry, who was cowering against the wall.

Other kids on the playground began to join in. _"FREAK! FREAK! YOU'RE A FREAK!" _

Dudley charged forward, his fists up. Piers was at his side, a grin plastered over his thin face.

Harry didn't waste any time—he sprinted off toward the garbage cans at the end of the building.

_"Get him," _Dudley huffed, as he and Piers tried to keep up. Dennis, Malcom and Gordon joined in the chase, too.

_"Hey, what in the world?" _Piers exclaimed, pointing up at the top of the school.

_"Huh?" _Dudley looked up, too. Harry was up on the roof! How he'd done it was not important. It was perfectly obvious that no one was supposed to be up there!

The gang stood there, dumbfounded. Kids swarmed around them, pointing and laughing.

Dudley was not at all excited by Harry's antics. Harry was always doing strange things like that. He simply folded his arms and yelled up at Harry: _"You're going to be in so much trouble! Just wait 'till I've told Mum and Dad." _

…

_"Actually," _said Colin Bard, on the first day of English class ever at Smeltings,_" it's pronounced 'mussel', not 'mus-kul.'" _

Smeltings was all ready annoying, due to its many staircases. Dudley was having trouble walking up them. He could also see that being away from home during a school year would make getting out of homework a lot more difficult. The school food was disgusting. All in all, Dudley was wishing he'd just stayed home, but he would never mention that to Dad.

At Colin's prim announcement, Dudley went red but said nothing. After class, he marched after Colin, shoved him into the wall and punched him in the face. Piers and Malcom kept watch.

_"Do that again, and I'll snitch, you whale!" _Colin squeaked.

Dudley laughed. _"Tell anyone and I'll really let you have it." _

_"I'm not afraid," _Colin barked.

Dudley stared. He had a feeling this boy wasn't lying.

…

_"She's a right slag," _Dennis said._ "Who needs to run laps anyway?" _

_"Yeah," _agreed Piers._ "Your mum was right, __Dudley__. Mrs. Hull doesn't know what she's saying, you get enough exercise as it is." _

Dudley said nothing as he was too busy eating a box of snack cakes. They were walking through Privet Drive, scouting out kids to beat up. They were all about twelve years old, in the summer before their second year at Smeltings.

It was no fun to pick on Harry anymore. Mum and Dad had told him over and over again about how _dangerous _magic was, how horrible, how vile Harry was. Harry had even threatened to set a bush on fire in Dudley's presence— Dudley was past beating Harry up because Harry might _do something. _So instead, he told his gang that Harry wasn't worth it, and they began to target other victims.

He always felt hungry now, no matter what, and he could eat for longer periods of time without his stomach hurting or without getting sick. He'd grown a few inches but had put on much more weight. His prior chubbiness had graduated into a portly vastness. Petunia had resorted to buying pairs of tremendous trousers that he wore with a belt, since he was growing so much. He was always pulling those stupid things up. However, no one in the neighborhood dared to call Dudley fat now, since he had surpassed the size of every kid on Privet Drive. At Smeltings even, people kept their gobs shut for the most part.

_"I want to go back to my house," _he said off-handedly, through a full mouth. He swallowed hugely. _"Mum's making shepherd's pie." _Dudley tossed the empty box on the sidewalk and belched.

_"Nice one, Dudley," _said Dennis. They all laughed.

_"Ewww!" _said a voice.

The boys turned to their left to see a group of girls standing there. Carly, Malcom's older sister was holding her nose. _"My stupid brother and his stupid friends!" _she declared. Clarice was watching them, little red ribbons woven through her hair.

_"Ew yourselves,"_ Dennis snarled. _"Bunch of slags." _He'd just learned that word, and used it whenever he could. Malcom snorted at his sister's disdain. Dudley watched them all dully.

_"Wash your mouth out!" _Carly declared.

_"What did he call us? What are slags?" _Clarice asked but Carly ignored her.

Dudley wiped his mouth on his sleeve. _"Hi Clarice,"_ he greeted.

_"Hi Dudley Dursley," _Clarice said, looking at the ground, embarrassed.

_"Ew! Clarice! Don't talk to him!" _

_"Aw, shut up," _Dennis spat.

_"Let's go," _Dudley said, scowling at Carly. They trudged past the girls.

…

Age thirteen. All he wanted to do was watch television and cram his mouth with food. He was tired of everyone at school, and he was sick of everyone in the family. He thought it was odd that Aunt Marge floated away, but he hated her. Then Harry left. He couldn't have asked for a better deal. He moved from the kitchen to the couch to his bed. When he absolutely had to go outside, he and his gang would beat up on the usual scrawny kids around the neighborhood, but Dudley would much rather be at home eating.

He dared anyone to make eye contact with him.

…

It was the summer between their third and fourth year at Smelting's. In May, Dudley and his parents had been called in for a meeting about his weight. It had been retarded and pointless in his opinion. He was completely angered by everyone, but was currently being slightly cheered up by his mates near the park.

_"So if you watch the tape really slow, her skirt goes up and she ain't wearin' pants, so you see some of her pussy," _Dennis was explaining. _"You lot can borrow it—" _

_"Brilliant," _Dudley said. _"Me first." _

_"Yeah, wicked, I'm second,"_ grinned Gordon. Malcom nodded enthusiastically.

_"Hullo. Can we sit with you?" _asked Susan Escot, playing with her red hair.

Dudley and the guys looked up and gaped. She was standing with Melanie and Veronica and smiling. _'Girls. Girls. Girls.' _thought Dudley.

_"Yeah, come on," _Dennis grinned eagerly, patting the grass beside him.

Malcom's eyes widened and Gordon immediately quit smiling. Piers looked at Dudley who was standing against the fence in a stupor, staring at Veronica's boobs. He had absolutely nothing to say.

All of a sudden, Dudley's gang was now known as the Cool Bad Boys, it seemed. The girls kept giggling and squealing. Even when Dudley spat in the grass, they shrieked with enthralled laughter. When Gordon cussed, they cussed too. All the things that used to piss them off and sicken them about Dudley and his gang now made them giggle as though it were cute. It was very odd. _Girls _were very odd. Dudley was caught between annoyance and fascination. He wanted to screw all of them.

_"Which one was the best looking?" _Piers asked Dudley afterward, as they were walking home.

_"Veronica. She got better looking since last time I seen her," _Dudley said.

_"Yeah," _Piers nodded. _"She was my favourite, too."_

…

Weird. The next week, Dudley was closer to shagging than he'd ever dreamed up.

_"You sure you done this before?"_ asked Mary-Anne, smiling. Her eyes were lined in dark, dark makeup.

Dudley swallowed. _"Yes,"_ he lied, nodding.

She unzipped his trousers and pulled them down his corpulent legs, revealing his plaid navy boxers.

It was the very first time a girl had even touched him. He instantly got an erection and turned bright red, feeling in danger of not being able to breathe. She laughed and he got a weird feeling, but all too soon she was taking his boxers off, too. He watched her hesitantly, not knowing where to put his hands, or what he was even supposed to do. _All the girls who gave him disgusted looks, all the bastards at school, they didn't matter._ Mary-Anne lifted up her skirt, pulled down her pants, and smelling like fags and perfume, she pressed her hips up against Dudley, pressing her hands into his sweaty shoulders, adjusting up, almost so that he was inside of her, just brushing him. She laughed when he came, just standing there mortified, blinking those precious blue eyes, not doing a damned thing.

_"No, you haven't,"_ she said, pulling away.

…

_"Here, try this. I got it from a Stonewall kid," _said Damien, lighting a blunt and holding it out to Dudley. He'd just had his fourteenth birthday party the day before. They were off Magnolia Crescent, behind a few of the trees.

_"Mary-Anne all ready gave me one of those," _Dudley said, grabbing it. _"I've all ready done this, you know." _

_"Mary-Anne!? Mary-Anne Johns?" _

_"Yeah, Dud shagged her last week," _Dennis grinned.

_"You're fucking kidding, Dursley! She's hot!" _

_"Yeah," _Dudley said dully, taking a hit. He was still confused about that—he hadn't known sex was like that, and besides, she'd told him he did it wrong.

He didn't even know if he _had _had sex. The whole ordeal rather confused him. But, she was only trying to spite her boyfriend anyway, that's what she'd said.

Except Dudley wasn't going to mention any of _that. __"Here," _he said, passing the blunt to Piers who was looking dejected for some reason.

_"Thanks, __Dudley__," _he said, brightening a bit.

Clarice and Carly walked past, chattering.

_"Oi, look who it is," _Dennis announced, peering around the tree.

_"Yuck," _said Carly, taking Clarice by the arm. _"Don't look." _

_"Hey, Clarice," _said Dudley unsteadily with a grin. His mates broke up laughing, misinterpreting his simple greeting for being snide.

Clarice seemed to think so, too. Her face became stony and she looked more humiliated than Dudley had ever seen. His stupid grin faded. _"Don't you talk to me, Dudley Dursley," _she said, frowning._ "Don't you talk to me ever again!" _

Dudley's all ready pink cheeks got redder but he laughed along with Piers.

_"Ooh, ever again," _he said.

_"Yeah, whatever will he do?" _Piers exclaimed, cackling.

_"LEAVE ME ALONE!" _Clarice shouted, stamping her foot.

_"Watch out, Claire. He'll sit on you!" _Carly declared hatefully, her hands on her hips.

Dudley's eyes narrowed. _"I wouldn't talk if I was you. Look at your ass, you cow." _

She looked surprised at first, then horrified, and then to Dudley's bemusement, she burst into tears. _"I'm not fat!" _she sobbed, backing up. _"I'm not! I'M NOT—look at you—" _

The guys broke into hysterical laughter as tears streamed down her face.

_"Doesn't make your ass any smaller," _Dennis put in, and Dudley high-fived him. Clarice put her arm around Carly, but the taller girl shoved her away and ran down the road, wailing.

_"You're wicked!" _Clarice yelled at Dudley, going after her.

_"Sluts!" _Dennis yelled back, and made like he was going to start chasing them.

Clarice hurried off down the walk. _"I'll tell your mothers!" _Carly called out behind her.

_"Do it, you bitch," _Damien said.

She never did.

…

Everyone was talking. Harry, Mum, Dad, some weirdo redhead people… Dudley was terrified someone was going to give him a pigtail again, so he cowered behind Mum and Dad. These times always seemed like nightmare sequences—blurry and undefined. There'd all ready been _enough _excitement, for the people had appeared, or tried to appear, in the fireplace! And on top of that, they'd caused all sorts of damage to the house.

However, one of the red-haired blokes dropped wrapped sweets all over the carpet. Dudley watched in interest. He'd missed sitting at the television and eating crisps, cookies and yes, candy. Every teacher at school had spoken to him about their "concern" for his weight. Petunia had had to ship him all new clothes. These days, he was only permitted to have celery and cottage cheese as a "treat" ( Dudley had another word for it). He stared at the floor as the boys collected the candies one by one and stuffed them back in their bag. However, Dudley noticed with a very mischievous plan in mind, they'd forgotten one right by his foot. Making sure Mum and Dad were preoccupied (which was easy; they were arguing with the red-haired man), with effort, Dudley bent down and picked up the sweet. He unwrapped it quickly and stuck it into his mouth, it was delicious toffee. He crunched it up and searched the floor for more, but paused.

Puzzled, he felt the nerves in his tongue panging. And then, before he knew it, with a dreadful bit of sharp pain, his tongue started _growing. _Sputtering, his tongue dropped out of his mouth, pulling and tearing, and it rolled past his chin. He fell to the floor in fear, gagging and choking. Mum started to scream, and to Dudley's horror, she began to pull his tongue, as though she could rip it out. He tried to protest, but couldn't very well speak, so he just tried to push her away instead.

In all the terror, Dudley happened to look up from the floor and saw Harry laughing. What did he think this was, some sort of joke? Did he ALWAYS think Dudley was just someone to be laughed at? Dudley wanted to force one of those candies down _his _throat. He wouldn't think it was so amusing then.

Dudley wanted to scream a million things: _'I had sex, I smoked a blunt, a girl shagged ME, I'm not just funny, not just funny,' _but all he could manage was a gag.

Despite his hollering, the red-haired man insisted on pointing that wand at Dudley's mouth, and got his tongue back to normal, but it hurt so badly that Dudley could do nothing but whine.

_"Thanks for nothing!" _Petunia screamed at the man.

Dudley spent the next three days licking ice cubes gingerly and sighing.

…

_"Bad attitude, Dursley," _remarked Kenneth Kraus. It was Year Ten, and Dudley had just stormed out of the boxing ring. He was leaning up against a row of lockers, breathing deeply, a huge glare on his face.

_"I fucking BEAT him!" _Dudley yelled, pounding his fist into the metal of the locker, making a huge racket. He'd spent hours a day training. He'd bulked up his fat into muscle. He could fit into his Smeltings uniform again. He'd worked SO hard, and for what? To be told he'd fouled?

_"Hey, little Big D, I know you did," _Kenneth went on calmly. The rest of their teammates were watching skeptically from the side, not wanting to get too close. _"You can't just hit blokes, though, D, you have to follow the rules—" _

_"FUCK the rules," _Dudley choked, kicking the locker.

_"Shut the hell up!" _Kenneth declared, grabbing Dudley by the shoulder. _"That's how it is and you gotta get used to it. We're not going to win the championship with you being a brat—" _

_"I'm **not **being a brat," _Dudley protested. _"I just wanted to beat him." _

_"You did," _Kenneth grinned. _"Just not in the way you were supposed to. Come on, come and hang out with us, Big D. We're going to celebrate a little—" _

_"Yeah?" _Dudley asked, trying not to sound excited. The older guys had never asked him to hang out with them before.

A half an hour later, he was up in Kenneth's dorm in the south wing. Victor was tossing a bottle at everyone in turn and they were taking swigs from it. _"You want some, Big D?" _

Dudley tried to act like he knew what it was. He could surmise that it was alcohol. He'd never tried alcohol before, though he was accustomed to seeing Aunt Marge getting rather drunk at family gatherings on Dad's brandy.

_"He's fourteen, Vic," _Kenneth declared.

_"No, it's cool," _Dudley said.

_"Yeah, don't get all annoying, Kenneth," _Victor responded. He tossed the bottle at Dudley, who immediately took a drink. The liquid burned his throat.

_"How do you like it?" _

Dudley shrugged like it was no big deal. _"It's good. I've had it before, you know." _With that, he took another swallow. In another half an hour, he was drunk for the first time in his life.

…

Sarah was dancing in the park, waving her arms in front of all the blokes. They were blasting some chick rap from Gordon's stereo. "Das da way we like 'em_," _went the radio. "Das da way we like 'em."

Sarah pulled on her skirt and did a dip, rolling her thighs.

_"Yow!"_ called Dennis. _'Did she just smile at him?' _worried Dudley.

"Understanding the depths of the cool women, that's me, 'cuz dat's the way T-Boz is livin'."

He charged into the middle of the gravel.

_"Hey baby," _Sarah cooed. Dudley glared at everyone.

"But on a serious tip, he's gotta come wit' respect."

She smirked. _"Come on, you love this kinda shit, dance, __Dudley__—" _

_"I don't dance," _Dudley growled—he never had, never would, standing in place and nodding to the beat was as far as Dudley went. Instead, he grabbed her around the back and kissed her hungrily as though to prove to everyone that she was his property. She broke out of the kiss and began to dance up on him slowly. Still rather disgusted with the whole situation, Dudley shoved her off of him and lumbered off, cursing under his breath.

"Das da way we like 'em."

…

Stoned out of his mind, Dudley snorted at the movie Piers had put into the VCR. He was annoyed, though, that Piers and Dennis kept laughing. He wanted to kick them, he had a very _strong _urge to just get up and kick them, but he didn't have the energy.

_"Shut up," _he kept saying to no one in particular, maybe to everyone. _"Shut up." _

…

Dudley was cowering on the asphalt; he was hearing all sorts of noises, but there was light—bright light.

Someone had carried him home.

It had been Harry.

Someone had saved him from the Dementor.

Had that been Harry, too?

Was Harry telling the truth?

**… **

Like a jolt, Dudley Dursley, sixteen, came back to reality.

_'Oh my god,' _he thought painfully, forcing himself out of the memories and tightening the blankets around his shoulders. He felt silly to use Clarice's term but it seemed rather appropriate: _'I **am **a gross boy.' _He wondered why it had taken him so long to remember all of these things— or… had he ever forgotten them? Perhaps he'd never thought about viewing them like a movie reel, like the Dementors had presented the memories to him two summers ago. It was sickening to him again, but even worse because he'd retraced these steps on his own— it was all sordid and unbelievable.

All of the details Dudley had forced to the back of his mind were slowly coming clearer.

Mary-Anne Johns hadn't really shagged him like he'd said… or like he'd led himself to believe all these years… He'd switched it around so much back then that he'd believed he was some big man, some big stud, fucking an older girl in the park, when _actually… _Dudley blushed. It hadn't really been like that at all. He'd been a scared, fat thirteen year old who was showing off for his mates, trying to score and getting used in the process. No _wonder _Mary-Anne had laughed whenever she'd seen him, called him "adorable"—she thought he was a _kid. _A complete idiot, probably! Sure, she'd been nice to him afterward, but she'd been… condescending. "The chubby one," she'd called him. He was lucky she'd even looked at him.

_'Lucky anyone even looked at me,' _he thought, bitter. Carly Conner was as much of a fat ass as he was anorexic. Harry had put up with a lot of shit. Sarah might have played with his mind, but… maybe it was like Clarice and Harry said—maybe he deserved it.

He sat up in bed, forced to look around his room and see more memories, it was dark, yes, but he knew it all by heart—schoolbooks he'd hardly touched, broken toys he'd shattered when he didn't get his way, the dirty magazines he kept under his mattress, boxing gloves… He'd never wanted to be seen as only the fat boy, but was the bad Dudley any better? _'I was never happy,'_ he thought suddenly. It was glum, but true, like when he and Piers had talked and Piers had told him he was gay. There wasn't anything Dudley could say he loved about his childhood. It all seemed pretty bad. He still hated Harry for how he'd acted, and how he'd shown up and how he seemed to think Dudley was something comical. But rationally, Dudley could see why Harry was so mean to him now. He could also sort of understand why Clarice had been wary to even be _seen_ with him and Piers.

_'We had nothing to drink about,' _Dudley thought, remembering Harry's comment to him two summers ago. Although Gordon's mum had died and Dennis was living with his brother, they were all pretty privileged: going to Smeltings, buying designer watches and trainers. _'No wonder no one likes me…' _he thought begrudgingly.

But as he'd figured at the beginning of the year, he'd all ready changed a lot in his life around. It had all ready been obvious that Mum and Dad didn't think he had any problems. After all, Mum had been the one to tell him he could eat whatever he wanted, and how much he wanted.

He didn't want to _transform_ himself, though. That wasn't even worth thinking about. He did, however, want to keep up his new attitude and keep with his diet—he'd been feeling much better about himself. He also wanted to make some sort of amends with Harry, however stupid that seemed. After all, the last memory had made him feel sort of sad. Harry had repeated over and over again to anyone who would listen that he hadn't set the Dementor at Dudley—and Dudley, being petulant, selfish, and rather nauseous, as he recalled, had just turned it around and blamed everything on him.

Yes, Dudley needed to tell Harry these things. But that was going to be a right challenge. _'I'll just have to say how… how I was. And how I am,' _thought Dudley. _'He won't get it but at least then…' _He sighed. _'At least then I'll have told him.' _Dudley needed to ask him things, too, he needed to ask about holding hands in nursery school, and about the sandbox, and did Harry used to play with them? He wanted to know everything, but at the same time, he didn't want to get close to his cousin at all. It was a strange feeling to have. But most of all, Dudley wanted to let Harry know he appreciated being saved, if only to even things out a bit.

The hardest part would be his relationships. Staying away from girls like Sarah was important still, because she wanted a mean, big bloke to protect her—at least that was what both Clarice and Harry had insinuated. Dudley definitely didn't mind being protective— on the contrary, it turned him on. He _wanted _to be able to hold girls the way he'd held Clarice tonight, make them feel safe. He often imagined beating off a host of rowdy guys and impressing a pretty, petite girl. But he didn't want protection to be his sole purpose in life. Being tough hadn't done much for him, as he was realizing.

Before, Dudley had always had his gang to help him. Mum and Dad had stood by him, no matter what, which was turning out to be not such a good thing. Clarice and Piers had been helpful, yes, but there was so much Dudley was mulling over that he couldn't even begin to explain to them. The whole deal with Harry as a wizard had always been a disconnection between Dudley and his friends, because he wasn't allowed to talk about it. But beyond that, the things Dudley needed to change were not things he could depend on anyone else for.

_'I'm on my own,' _Dudley decided, and it wasn't a bad thought. It was almost comforting.

* * *

**AN: Read it? **Review it. 


	22. Put Me Back Together Again

**AN: **Special thanks to both **texljay **and **Silver Sailor Ganymede**. Jay was my Brit-beta for this chapter, and SSG has helped me with details dealing with schools in Europe, and minor corrections. Being that I'm tying to keep this as canon and true-to-Surrey as possible, I am really grateful for them.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Put Me Back Together Again**

**

* * *

**

Dudley gave a sigh and rolled over on his side. He paused—there was a weird clicking noise coming from somewhere in his room. Still half-asleep, he looked at his clock. It was nine in the morning. _Tap tap tap._

"What the hell?" Dudley muttered and sat up. With a start, he barked: "Shit!"

"Oh, hiya, Dudley," Piers greeted brightly, swiveling around in Dudley's large computer chair—too brightly for the morning, in Dudley's own opinion. But what else could he expect from someone who'd been sleeping since ten the night before?

"Didn't know what the fuck that was," Dudley grumbled, still a bit blank. He leaned back in bed and yawned.

"Yeah, I would still be sleeping, but your dad came in and turned on the news and started yelling at the telly," Piers chortled, going back to the computer. "Guess some bridge collapsed. He started telling me how it was planned by the prime minister—"

"Sounds like Dad," Dudley said.

--"I figure it was just an old bridge." Piers turned around and stared. "You look sort of out of it--"

"Yeah, well, you _did _just wake me up," Dudley replied, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Plus I was awake forever last night."

"Why?" Piers asked casually, still typing away.

"I don't know," Dudley said, forcing himself up and out of bed. He stretched, scratching his middle and pulling down his wife beater. "I had all these flashbacks—"

"_Flashbacks?" _Piers looked away and snorted, and then went serious, seeing as Dudley wasn't kidding. "Sorry, but that sounds kinda funny."

"I guess so," replied Dudley unsurely. He didn't want to get into it with Piers. "Anyway, you don't have to be sorry," he added. He stood up and stretched again, gazing outside at the lightly falling snow. He needed to get all of those memories out of his mind, and he knew that if this had happened a few years ago, he would have simply gone downstairs, gotten a pile of snacks and sat in front of the television until he was too zoned out and stuffed to remember why he'd been in a bad mood. He grabbed his fleece jacket and a pair of track pants that he pulled over his pajama bottoms. "I have to go take a run," he said. "You can come if you want."

Piers turned away from the computer. "Oh, yeah, sure. I should probably get home anyway. Mum'll be back today."

"Oh yeah?" Dudley asked, zipping up his coat.

"She's bringing a bloke," Piers said quietly.

Dudley wasn't sure what to say. He knew Dennis and the guys had joked about that before, saying that was the reason why Mrs. Polkiss was always away, but he'd never really thought about it. After a few seconds of awkwardly staring at each other, he attempted a response: "What, like a boyfriend?"

"Dunno. 'Spose," Piers said, as they crossed the room to the door. "Says his name is Mick."

"What sort of name is that?" asked Dudley, trying to be rude about this so-called "Mick" in order to generate a response from his friend.

But Piers merely shrugged. "Dunno," he replied. "She says he's really looking forward to meeting me."

"Oh," Dudley shrugged. "Well, that's cool, I guess."

"Yeah," Piers responded, but he didn't sound so sure.

--

"So, you doing the same old for Christmas tomorrow?" Piers asked when they'd reached his house.

"Yeah, what else? Yvonne leaves today, but then Aunt Marge is supposed to show up."

"Shit," Piers laughed. "Well, I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah, have fun with Mick," Dudley responded.

Piers smiled. "Bye Dudley," he said with a wave, and headed off toward his house.

Reminded of one of last night's memories, Dudley couldn't help but feel nostalgic. If one thing had remained constant throughout the years, it was Piers Polkiss. He nodded back and took off in a steady jog, pulling his discman on.

--

"It's just a shame," Vernon was saying sadly as Dudley walked back into the foyer, feeling refreshed but sweaty. "Oh, good morning, Dudders."

"Morning," Dudley grunted, pulling off his shoes. "What's a shame?"

"Marge can't make it!" Vernon declared. "Funny weather or something—she's afraid of leaving the dogs alone."

Dudley didn't quite know how to respond. He wouldn't have cared either way, but he preferred Aunt Marge staying put in her own house. Every time she came, she only succeeded in being obnoxious, and in making Mum nervous, although Petunia would never admit it. Just as he expected, when Dudley passed the kitchen door, he saw his mum standing against the sink and smiling to herself as Vernon went on about how much he was going to miss his sister this holiday.

--

Dudley wouldn't have thought he'd notice so much, but it was rather nice to have Christmas with just Mum and Dad. It seemed a lot quieter this year, at least. They ate toast and porridge, which Dudley wasn't bent on making out to be as villainous as he previously had, and he made a pot of tea which they set out on the living room table as they opened gifts.

He got a lot of video games and gift certificates for music (because neither Mum or Dad could bring themselves to personally buy the provocative rap albums that Dudley loved so dearly), and since he'd been staring at it again the last time he and Mum had gone shopping, she had bought him the leather jacket Clarice had told him was more his style. Though he still wasn't sure, the stupid part of him looked forward to showing it off to her. Not like she'd care. He figured her neither-here-nor-there attitude about him was good for his ego, but still, it would be nice if he could find a girl who would fawn over him just a little without being a stalker.

The last present was an enormous box, and when Dudley leaned over to pick it up, Dad advised against it. Interested, Dudley knelt down and tore off the wrapping, and pulled apart the top of the box. Inside was a weight set—there was a vast array of sizes of dumbbells, small ones, two medium sized, and one very long, heavy one. He grinned. "Thanks," he said appreciatively, taking out one of the mediums and flexing.

"Do you like it?" asked Vernon. "I wasn't sure which to get, but these are supposed to have a good grip—"

Petunia smiled. "We're just so proud of how well you've been doing on that diet. You look wonderful, Duddy—we're just—" she seemed to be getting choked up. "You're doing so well!" she burst out.

Completely surprised by these statements, Dudley put down the weight and got to his feet. Dad shrugged at him, smiling awkwardly as tears streamed down Mum's face.

"Thanks Mum and Dad," he said again. "I mean it, really." He bent down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

She burst anew into tears, hugging him.

"By God, Dudley, get your mother another present to open!" Vernon declared.

--

The day after Christmas, Dudley started running with his weights. When he did that, it took even more off his mind. Then he'd come home and force himself through at least twenty push-ups, go inside and lift the larger weights, and then, finally take a shower. It became his new routine.

He realized it was the third year in a row he hadn't stood in the kitchen during Christmas break while his mother baked and consumed cake batter and cookie dough. Three years. And this year, he was actually _willing _to give up that habit. Instead he sat at the table and listened to her complaining, or read out of _Lord of the Flies, _which was actually pretty interesting, though it took him awhile to get through the chapters.

After a week had passed, he dialed Piers' house. "Hello?" asked a woman.

"Hey, Ms. Polkiss," said Dudley," is Piers there?"

" Dudley, is that you?"

"Yeah."

"How have you _been?" _she exclaimed. "It's been far too long! You should come over more often—"

"I **do** come over," Dudley said. _'You're just never there,' _he thought.

She seemed to get the idea anyway. "Hold a moment, will you Dudley?" she said professionally. "PIERS! PHONE! DUDLEY!" she hollered.

Dudley massaged his ear.

_Click. _"Hello?"

"Hey Piers."

"Oh, hi Dudley, how's it going?"

"Fine, you?" Dudley asked. "Have an okay Christmas?"

"Hold on, okay?" whispered Piers. There was a great deal of shuffling, and finally, Piers came back on the line. "Sorry, I went into the bathroom so they wouldn't hear."

"Oh yeah," Dudley said. "How's the bloke?"

"Mick?"

"Yeah, Mick."

There was a silence, and then Piers sighed. "All I hear from him since he came is that I should try for a sport. I think he's disappointed in me—"

"Why?" Dudley asked loudly. "He just met you."

"Yeah, well, he says blokes should go for sports."

"Not everyone plays sport, only a lot of people—"

"He wants me to go for rugby."

"No offense, mate, but you'd be clobbered," Dudley said.

"None taken, I know."

"Sounds like your dad," Dudley said. Piers' father had been nice to Dudley, but had always criticized Piers for not being thicker in build.

"Sort of, yeah," Piers agreed darkly. "Anyway, he also talks shit about… about blokes like me."

"Ones who don't play rugby?" asked Dudley.

"No, Dud," Piers said, lowering his voice. "_You know, gays." _

"Oh." Dudley went quiet.

"I mean, he keeps going on about knob jockeys this, and pansies that, and how so-and-so on tele's a homo—"

"Dunno, Piers," said Dudley, trying very hard to be understanding, but the fact of the matter was that _his _dad talked like that, too. Not obsessively, but if a guy was weak, it was always because he was a "raving pansy". And Dudley _himself _couldn't help but see an effeminately dressed guy on the street and wonder to himself if he was a queer. Didn't Piers know this? Dudley struggled to say what he meant. "I can't really tell you anything… about that," he muttered. "I mean, maybe you should try to talk to Clarice about it, she a girl, she don't mind as much…"

"Sorry," Piers replied quietly. "Just… I don't _like _talking to her all the time—like you said, she's a girl—"

"Oh," said Dudley. This made absolutely no sense to him. If Clarice was a girl, then wouldn't it be easier to talk to _her? _He felt decidedly uncomfortable. "Well… I'll…"

"Talk to me later, yeah, I guessed," Piers finished, his voice a cool, brisk snap. "Bye." He hung up.

Dudley stared at the phone and hung up, too. That _was _what he was going to say next, but he wasn't sure what was wrong with it.

--

The last week of vacation was boring. Dudley helped Dad take down all the Christmas lights, and afterward, Mum offered to take him to the mall to spend his gift certificates. He asked Piers if he wanted to come along, but Piers said he was busy. Dudley highly doubted that.

He wondered about calling on Clarice and asking her instead, but he didn't want Petunia to ask too many questions. He'd all ready thrown her off the scent enough, and he was beginning to grow fearful of how his mother would react someday when he actually had an official girlfriend. Dudley made a mental promise to himself to keep every girl he dated a complete and total secret, even though he knew that was impossible. But it would be for the girl's safety. Maybe _that _would be how he would protect women—from his mother.

--

" Dudley!" called a voice.

He stopped short, panting, still jogging in place and pumping both medium weights at his side. Clarice was running toward him from Number One.

" Dudley, all right?"

"Hey Clarice," he replied, smiling, stopping his workout at once and feeling slightly foolish.

"Not to bother you, but you're… you're leaving today, right?"

"Yeah," he said with a brisk nod. "Back to Smeltings. How was your Christmas?"

"Good," she said back, just as quickly. "So, have you spoken to Piers?"

"Naw. He won't talk to me. I don't know what I did."

"Dudley, he was _just _trying to tell you what was going on in his life and you made him feel terrible—"

Dudley shook his head. "Now, that's not fair. You _have _to get that Piers bein'… bein' gay isn't something that's an… easy thing for me to think about… It took me a long time to even talk to him. I just _don't _know what to say to him about it is all."

"You have to remember that he fancies you—"

"Still!?" Dudley demanded edgily. It felt weirder every time it was said aloud.

She sighed. "Yes, which makes our troupe a rather complicated one."

Dudley wanted to ask what she meant, but Clarice went on: "You need to think before you speak. Being sensitive really isn't your area."

"No, it isn't," Dudley responded. "And I don't know what to say about it! So… I was thinking it's best I just say nothing—isn't that better?"

Clarice sighed. "I think he gets that. But you know—you're his best mate."

"He's mine, too. But… you have to understand," Dudley pressed.

She nodded, and then looked at the ground. "Well, he'll snap out of it. I'm sure of that. Anyway, this is for you—" she held out an envelope to him.

Awkwardly, he balanced both weights in his right hand and grabbed the envelope. "You didn't have to do that—"

"I know—"

--"Do you want me to open it now?"

"No, that's okay," she said.

"Okay," he said and stuffed it into the pocket in his jacket. They stared at each other. He couldn't help but think about her in the memories—she still had her little bows in her hair and everything, but she obviously was talking to him. He had to smile.

"What?"

"Just… nothing," he said quickly. "Anyway, I've got to—" he gestured to his weights. "I have to keep it up or else, you know, I slack off—"

"Oh, oh, right, okay," Clarice said. "Don't be too hard on Piers. But—no one's expecting… oh, well, just read my card—"

"Okay."

Clarice sighed again. " Dudley. I'm sorry about Mitchell."

"Who?"

"_Mitchell, _Mitchell Right, from Stonewall. I really wasn't trying to make you jealous. At all. I'm just—I was just…" She blushed. "Excited, is all. I wanted you to know that I'm getting better."

Dudley nodded, feeling strange. He really hoped she wouldn't go all emotional again. "Like I said, it's no big deal. I mean, it ain't like we're—" he stopped. Saying they weren't a couple seemed odd, so he left it at that. She seemed to understand, because she didn't question him further.

"Well, Dudley," she began, and after looking around, she walked closer to him and made to put her arms around him.

"Clarice, I'm all sweaty!" he exclaimed, stepping back from her.

"Oh well," she said, and pressed herself to his chest, her thin arms wrapped around his neck. He stood there with his hands out, weights balanced on each side.

"Well, hang on!" he declared, and set them down, wrapping his large arms around her back.

"Have a good end of term," she whispered.

"You, too."

She kissed him on the cheek and paused. She bit her lip. "Okay, well, I won't see you for awhile, so…" She trailed off and then kissed him on the mouth.

"God, Clarice… when'd you get all forward?" he declared when they were through, and kissed her again. He made sure to keep his hands above her ass, though he itched to palm it with all of his being.

A horn honked from the street, and they turned around, Dudley's arms still around her.

It was Carly, Malcom's sister, in her new yellow car. Her mouth was opened in shock and her dark frizzy curls seemed to add to her surprise. There was a very thick silence and then she rolled down the window, and stuck out her face.

"Yuck! _Clarice_!?" she shouted. "That's Dudley Dursley! Ewww!"

"Ew yourself," said Clarice.

Horrified, Carly stepped on the gas and sped away.

--

Dudley opened the card as soon as Clarice had gone home.

_'Dear __Dudley_

_I realise it may have seemed like I was attempting to change you, but I hope you don't think that's what I was trying to do. Please don't change. I like how you've been acting. Regardless of your chavy outfits and somewhat gross habits, although you've been fairly lovely as of late. You are still a very nice boy no matter what happened before. _

_Happy Christmas. _

_Love, Clarice _

_PS: When I say "love", I mean it in a friendly way. Don't misinterpret me, Dursley :)_

_PPS: I didn't seem to think you were too bad here!' _

Included in the envelope was a small Polaroid picture. In it was a very small Dudley, it must have been nursery school, with cake batter all over his face. Clarice was even smaller, wearing blue bows and pigtails, waving a chocolately spoon in the air.

_'Before you saw me in the loo,' _Clarice had written on the back. Dudley broke up laughing and couldn't stop pulling it out of his pocket and looking at it the entire jog.

--

When Dudley returned to Smeltings, however, he discovered that he wasn't all too hung up on Clarice in the least. She was a good friend, that was for sure, but he guessed if she wanted a good, steady boyfriend, he didn't even _want _to be it. Still the school breaks had sure been fun, even though Dudley couldn't shake the idea of a shag with her. It was different than Sarah, though—he imagined it slow and careful. He imagined being very nice and courteous. It was an entertaining thought, but was so far off that he didn't really get off on it many times. And any time he tried to imagine her as a toadying slut, it didn't even make sense, so that was out of the question, too. He knew that he and Clarice weren't going to be together. She was better for him than Sarah, but she still wasn't his type. He needed a _little _action, and he liked dark hair over blondes. Still, the prospect of some summer snogging was never a bad one, and Clarice most definitely was something to look forward to upon the return to Privet Drive.

Piers and Dudley hardly spoke. They acknowledged each other's existence, but that was about all. They _did _have a sex ed course together, and Piers wasted no time elbowing Dudley when the professor went on about condoms and "being safe."

Dudley had taken to lifting weights in any spare moment he had, sometimes attempting to read _Lord of the Flies _in one hand and pump iron in the other, even though it was tricky. One morning, he was in the study hall doing just that when Colin Bard walked toward him.

"Why are you reading?" he challenged, as though it wasn't allowed.

Dudley slowly looked up from his book and looked up at the skinny boy. "Because," was his answer.

_"What _are you reading?" Colin asked.

Dudley raised up the cover so he could see it.

"_Oh," _said Colin snidely. "I read that book _ages _ago."

_'What does that have to do with anything?' _Dudley thought. "Well, I'm reading it now," was his answer.

For some reason, this stumped Colin completely. He opened his mouth to say something else, then thought better of it and tromped away.

--

Dudley was breathing heavily; sweat poured down his back and his legs pulsed in pain. The announcer was squawking about something, but he was only focused on his opponent, a bloke from London with mean black eyes and a heavy jaw. Dudley kept close to him, circling him. Moving around was so much easier that Dudley had been caught off balance lately. The guy tried to jab him, and he knocked his fist out of the way. The guy slammed one into his face. Dudley scowled. The guy tried again, and Dudley slammed a hook into that cleft jaw. As soon as the bloke was taken by surprise, he delivered another right hook and his opponent tottered and fell down in the centre of the ring.

The bell tolled. "Nice and clean, Dursley, nice and clean," said Coach White, approaching him and handing him a towel.

Dudley wiped off his forehead, heart thumping, his chest rising and falling greatly.

"Stay focused, Dursley, one more round, you can take this chump, fair and square—"

"Thanks, Coach," muttered Dudley, heaving another deep breath.

"Go get him."

Dudley marched into the ring again, as did the Londoner. It was all he could do not to pull an illegal move; he hated his opponents' expressions, they always seem amused at him, maybe that was just out of habit—he could remember the kids taunting him in primary school, "Oink, oink, oink", Sarah, Harry, the way Mum acted—the rage scorched inside of Dudley and he jabbed the boy in the temple. When that didn't do the job, he hooked him in the cheek. The boy fell, his eyes rolling back.

Coach White ran the centre of the ring and grabbed Dudley's gloved-fist, raising it above his head and urging the crowd to cheer.

"And there's another win for Smeltings School, now third time in a row champ, Dudley Dursley, that's Big D to his friends—"

Amid the cheers from fellow students, a voice stood out among the rest:

"THAT'S MY SON! THAT'S MY DUDDERS!"

Dudley looked up into the stands and was pleasantly surprised to see Dad, standing up and clapping vigorously.

--

"Big D, let's feel those guns!" Viktor grinned.

"Shut up," Dudley grinned back, but pulled back his sleeve.

"Holy shit—is that _all _you've been doing?"

Coach White appeared behind Dudley and put his arm on his shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Dursley, _really _proud—you went from headstrong to plain determined! Look at you! You're half the size you used to be—"

"That's not true," Dudley replied. In all honesty, he felt still bigger than before, but that was because he'd bulked up so much. He'd heightened his exercise for the boxing season and had seen dramatic results. His large stomach was now as firm as his chest and though he was _still _most definitely Big D, he was fit. Standing at six foot two, he was now almost height and weight proportionate. No longer did his sides seem longer than his stature, no longer did his bottom go embarrassingly over chairs. He gained most of his weight in his thighs and lower body, and in those places, he had trimmed down and built up the muscle considerably. He no longer panted for breath after walking up stairs, and he paced himself at every meal, thinking every time of his disgusting eating habits. He knew now that he didn't need to eat everything at the table to prove something, and he wished he could get over his embarrassment and find the words to tell Harry that. He still wore his chains and baggy jeans when he wasn't in uniform, but instead of large hooded sweatshirts and over-sized jerseys, he now wore collared dress shirts and his leather jacket.

"Happier, too," interjected Kenneth. "Big little brother, we're all glad you joined—we weren't so sure at first—"

"Wonder why," Dudley laughed, rolling his eyes.

--

Dudley was able to talk to his English teacher about _Lord of the Flies, _but he asked if he could extend talking about _Catcher in the Rye _until next year. She gave him a hard time, but let him do it, but as "punishment" (as she said with a simper), she gave him another book called _A Separate Peace. _"And by September first, you _best _have read both, Dudley," she told him, waggling her finger.

As he left her classroom, he noticed a copy of the school newspaper on her desk. **COLIN BARD WINS FULL SCHOLARSHIP** proclaimed the headline on the front of the paper. _Dudley Dursley's Third Win at Boxing Championship, Details Inside_ read a much smaller line.

_'He made front page,'_ thought Dudley amusedly. He grabbed the newspaper to read Colin's article later.

--

Dudley turned his music down a few notches. He could have sworn he heard someone calling his name. He was taking a walk around campus at a leisurely pace, in his street clothes— a long-sleeved white shirt and khakis.

"Big D! Dudley Dursley!"

He strained to see who was calling for him. The voices were coming from Collings, the sister-school across the way. At the fence were a couple girls, all in uniform, the reverse of Smeltings—maroon pleated skirts and orange tops.

"Hi Big D!" they called.

Without an idea of who they were, he waved to them.

The girls waved back and kept watching him.

Dudley went red and kept walking. They looked normal. Their skirts were past their knees. That had certainly never happened before. He wondered why he hadn't started lifting weights a long time ago, but he knew that wasn't the only reason he was getting such positive attention.

--

Despite Piers' protests, Dudley carried half of his bags down to the foyer again. They talked about the weather, but nothing else. It was a little bit odd between them, but they'd seemed to have reached an understanding. Piers had made a few friends within their biology class and Dudley was hanging out with the upperclassmen from the boxing team.

"Dursley!" Colin Bard called out, strutting up to them.

Dudley set down Piers' bags and his own and stared quizzically at him. "Yeah?"

Piers set his jaw.

"I just want to say that you did a remarkable job at your meet," said the boy with a brisk nod," and I wish you a most rewarding summer."

"Huh?" Piers' eyes widened.

Dudley grinned, completely understanding for once where Bard was coming from. "Thanks, man," he said. "You too."

Colin nodded again and gave Piers a snide look-over as though he might revert at any given moment. "Anyway," he said briskly," I'd best be going." With that, he headed off through the entrance.

"Weirdest fucking bloke," Piers declared.

"Naw." Dudley shook his head. "I've seen weirder." Wasn't _that_ the truth!

* * *


	23. Guilty Without Trial

**AN: **_Deathly Hallows _spoilers from here on out. The spoilers in this chapter focus on what is revealed in the third chapter of _DH. _Thanks to Jay again, and thanks for the favs/reviews/alerts within the past couple of weeks. Review! Your precious Harry has returned.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Guilty Without Trial**

* * *

Dudley laughed aloud. He'd happened upon a shirt from before fourth year, an enormous striped blue and white polo. This was hardly spectacular. The amazing news was that he could fit into it now. It was tight around the arms, but it fit nicely over his stomach. In fact, it was rather _baggy._ He'd never been able to fit back into his old clothes—it had always been a promise, something he knew for a fact, he'd gain weight every summer and have to get Mum to buy him new clothes. But here he was, fitting perfectly into a shirt he'd been bursting out of when he was _thirteen. _He stared into the mirror, astounded. He felt out of place in his own room. Dudley picked up one of the medium-sized dumbbells on the floor by the mirror and flexed, watching himself intently. His large biceps contorted, thick veins protruding out of his arm.

"You like that?" he questioned to no one in general.

"Mm, my Duddy," said Mum from the doorway. She walked in with a pile of clean clothes and stacked them on his bed.

"Oh, hey," he nodded, a little embarrassed. He turned around immediately and dropped the dumbbell on his dresser, running his right hand through his hair as though it had been there the whole time instead. "What's up?"

It was his first morning back at Privet Drive, and things had seemed a lot better all ready. Mum had finally figured out a way to cook fish without smelling up the house—or so she seemed to think. She'd opened every window and door and turned on every fan. Then she'd put on heavy kitchen gloves and broiled the fish in the oven. She'd dumped it onto a serving platter at once and then ran outside with the dirty pan, where she "let it air out." After an hour, she deemed it safe, and took it inside to clean.

Dudley wondered just how long this would last before she decided it was unsanitary to leave cooking equipment in the garden, however, he was glad she didn't tempt him with any steak and kidney pie this time around.

"We're heading off to pick him up from the train station," Petunia replied. "We'll be back in about two hours, but don't fret, I left you some dinner in the refrigerator—"

"Oh," Dudley nodded. "Right." Not a day had gone by that he hadn't thought of all the awful memories. He imagined himself seeing Harry, striding forward and apologizing to him profusely, clapping him on the back, and them both laughing about how stupid they'd been as kids. But Dudley knew that was a very idiotic thought. In fact, this was the first time he'd ever considered himself to have a good imagination. He had no idea how to apologize, as he'd demonstrated time and time again. How would he even start that conversation? He also had a feeling Harry wouldn't forgive him so easily, and he could hardly blame him. After all, it wasn't like he was all too pleased with the way Harry had spoken to him over the years-- the smirks, the threats of magic, the laughter. Even this thought made Dudley's blood run hot. He told himself to take a breath.

"Well, that's a rather old thing, isn't it!" Petunia exclaimed, coming up behind him and tugging gently on the polo shirt. "Still the same handsome boy, though." She kissed his hair and ruffled it.

"I'm gonna come along, Mum," he said all of a sudden. "Just let me grab my music."

--

It had never taken so long to get to London. Dudley kept playing the same song over and over again, drumming his hand against the window until Dad turned around and told him to "please quit that hullabaloo". Forcing back a grin, Dudley obeyed Dad. He could see that he was all ready gritting his teeth and nearly hitting other cars—Harry did that to him.

After what seemed like ages, Dad pulled in to King's Cross. Mum had all ready set her jaw, and Dad cursed when he rolled over the concrete barrier. Dudley felt strange being that he didn't feel apprehensive or pissed off—in fact, he felt a little bit excited.

"Well," began Dad, as though he were preparing for a great battle," I'll be back, then."

"I—I'll go," offered Dudley. "I mean, you don't have to."

Both Mum and Dad swiveled around and gawked at him. _"Why _would we send _you?"_ Petunia demanded, as though she were saddened he'd suggest something so torturous, as though they'd fail as parents if they let him do such a dangerous thing.

"I—I just thought I'd go," Dudley shrugged hugely.

"Son, you don't have to do that," Vernon said," but if you insist, I suppose you can…"

"Oh, Duddy, you're so sweet!" Petunia exclaimed, looking to be in danger of bursting into tears. This wasn't the first time. Dudley had no idea why she was being so over-emotional, but it always made him a little fearful. "So grown-up!"

"Thanks?" Dudley grunted uncomfortably. "So… I'll be… right back." They waved, obviously surprised but far less stressed. He got out of the car, and when he stood on his feet, he still had his breath. The only thing he was in danger of was shattering the glass in the car window; when he shut it, it made a noise as though it might shatter. He felt his biceps and smiled to himself.

He hadn't come with them to pick Harry up in years—he figured he'd last done so when he was twelve, since when he was thirteen, he hadn't left the kitchen and after that, he and Harry barely looked at each other if they could help it (bugger that summer before his fifth year at Smeltings; utterly too much Harry). He strode through the station, towering over everyone, but excited to think that hardly anyone who gave him a Look was staring at him and seeing a fat boy. They were seeing a hulking teenager with a leather coat and a sort of goofy grin.

Instead of the smirks he usually got when he walked through public places, he was getting slightly apprehensive stares—darting glances at his muscles from people who had to look up to see his face.

Dudley reached Platform Seven and slowed down, his heart skipping a beat. There was his cousin Harry, just ahead between platforms nine and ten, giving a brown-haired girl a hug around the shoulders. The weird red-haired bloke was standing there, looking somewhat confused. They were talking seriously, it looked like. Dudley wondered what they had to say to each other, he wanted to ask Harry if that brunette was his girlfriend; she looked plain but fairly attractive. _'For wearing trousers and not a nice, short skirt,' _thought Dudley with a laugh. He just knew he'd get it from Clarice if she heard that. He noticed as he approached Harry and his friends that a redhead was hanging around them, too. Even though she was also wearing trousers, she was a little more Dudley's style. A blonde girl with a peculiar skirt floated over to them and hovered. She was sort of cute, too. _'Damn,' _he thought, shaking his head and shuffling toward them. That was a lot of girls.

They all kept whispering to each other, and once in a while, one of them would hug someone else. They all looked rather depressed.

_'Hi, Harry,' _Dudley said inside his head. _'Hey, Harry. 'sup, Harry? How was school? Did… Hi, Harry, what's new? My school was okay, I met a normal girl—Clarice, you know, finally told Sarah to get lost, thanks, by the way, for the Dementors. I know, I'm a bit… slow… I just now realized you saved me. I mean, not… now like this second, but like, a few months ago. Or something. I had like, a weird flashback thing. I know, Piers thought it was funny. But the point is, I should have listened. Thanks, Harry. I'm sorry for being a prat before, too, when we were kids. I guess I'm sorry about everything, haha, yeah. How are you, anyway? Harry?' _

"Harry," said the brunette girl in a sharp, clear voice, and inclined her head toward Dudley. His thoughts broke like shattering glass. The red-haired bloke raised his eyebrows.

Dudley blinked at them, only noticing just then that he'd been standing closely behind.

His black-haired cousin turned around. Instantly, the calm look of question fell off his face and was replaced with one of disgust. He turned back around and kept talking to the people. "Well, I guess it's time for me to leave," he explained sharply with a snicker. The bloke laughed, too. The brunette gave Dudley a strange look, as did the red haired girl. Dudley checked out her ass. The blonde seemed to be lost, but she smiled nicely at Dudley. _'Has she got radish earrings?' _he wondered.

"We'll see you very soon," said the brunette to Harry in a breathless sort of way," just… you know…" She gave Dudley another stare. "Tell them as soon as you can."

Harry muttered something and the redhead girl laughed, touching his arm.

Dudley felt very odd, and was glad when Harry finally turned away from the girls and the bloke, who all waved. Harry lugged his two trunks along with him.

Dudley stared down at his cousin. At last, Harry actually looked back for more than two seconds. His green eyes flickered around Dudley's waist, then his hips, then around his shoulders and biceps. He raised his eyebrows.

_'How are you, Harry? How was school, who were those girls, could you get me a phone number or three? Dad would die if he knew. Do wizard people use phones!? I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!' _Dudley thought, a little panicked, his mouth feeling dry.

"HEY!" he said loudly, a bit louder than he'd meant, actually.

Harry raised his eyebrows higher. "Hello, Dudley," he said back. "You…" he trailed off, and pointed to Dudley's middle.

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Dudley shrugged. "You know… My diet," he explained. _'Say you're sorry, tell him about the Dementor, and acting like a pig at dinner and beating him up!' _

"Yeah, I see that," Harry said slowly, still looking a little amazed, and then grabbed his luggage awkwardly, the owl hooting in her cage which he was grasping.

"Here," Dudley grunted, reaching out.

"No," Harry said.

"Yeah," Dudley nodded," I'll get them, here."

"No, Dudley," Harry insisted.

"Fuck! Give us that!" Dudley declared, and tugged the two suitcases off the floor, hoisting them into his massive arms. _'He and Piers both!' _

Harry sighed. "You don't have to."

Dudley didn't know what to say to that. Of course he didn't have to. He didn't have to do anything. But that was the point. Now he _wanted _to. He walked after Harry. Now no one was staring at him because he was a fat kid _or _because he was muscular—they were staring at him because he was walking with a bloke who was carrying an owl. Dudley kept thinking of things to say, but he couldn't say them. It was so difficult.

"So," he finally began, but it was too late, because Harry was opening the trunk of the van and grabbing his suitcases away.

Everyone was silent as the two teenage boys got into the car, Dudley's head brushing the top of the ceiling while Harry's was at a much more comfortable height. Petunia sent Harry a pursed-lipped nod, and Vernon squinted at him through the mirror. Harry said nothing. He stared out the window and put his finger in and out of the owl's cage.

"So," Dudley began again, fifteen minutes later, "how… how…?"

Harry turned very slowly to look him over as though he were suffering from an affliction.

"How…" Dudley gulped. _'Shit, fuck, just say something.' _"How was… your summer?"

"It's summer now, Dudley," Harry responded coolly.

Dudley went red. "Right, well—I meant… I meant how was school?"

Harry looked at him again, and raised his eyebrows even higher than before. "It was… long. Bad, I guess." He paused. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Dudley questioned.

"Never mind!" Harry snapped, but looked perplexed.

Dudley knew what he wanted to say, but he didn't know how the words would go, so he put his music back on.

--

"Pass the rice, _please,"_ Dudley said, trying desperately to overemphasize the last word, staring at Harry.

Harry passed the rice, but hardly looked up.

"_Thank you,"_ Dudley said.

"Welcome," Harry grumbled without even glancing up, drawing circles in his peas with his fork.

"He's going to save this bloody place," Vernon went on. "I like his ways, he's a good man, a good man, even though he's got that earring." He stabbed a pork chop. "You can't have everything!"

Dudley took a bite of rice and peas. Dad had been on about some man who was working for the prime minister—apparently he'd been on the news a lot lately. It was nice to hear Dad talking happily about someone political for once. He was usually screaming about them.

He went on: "We're bloody lucky to have someone who cares, is all I'm saying. And they say he works twice as hard as the rest, and faster, too, saw it on tele—"

"Sorry, who's this?" Harry asked suddenly, looking up.

Petunia and Vernon frowned at him.

"If you kept in touch with reality," put in Vernon, "you'd know."

Dudley waited for Harry to start hollering, but it never happened. Harry actually chuckled, though a bit darkly. "No, I want to know, Uncle Vernon."

Dad sighed. "One of the prime minister's new guards, he's been working on all of the wonky cases, the bridge collapse, the disappearances—this world's gone to Hell, surely, but Shacklebolt will come through!"

Harry sputtered and cleared his throat. "Shacklebolt? _Kingsley _Shacklebolt!?"

Dudley, Vernon and Petunia stared at him. "Yes," Petunia said, "yes, however did you know?"

"Reading the newspaper again?" Vernon snarled. "Strange lad, young boys and the news don't mix, no siree, Dudders, do you know what's happening in the news?"

"What?" Dudley asked, looking around at everyone.

"See!" Vernon yelled triumphantly.

Harry put his head in his hands, letting out a breath. He put his hands down again and took a bite of rice.

"How did you know?" Petunia asked again. It seemed like a rather strange thing for her to be interested about, in Dudley's opinion.

Harry looked a little smug and set his fork down. "Not to scare you or anything," he started," but I happen to know Kingsley."

"Scare us? But—what? _Know _him? Personally!?" Vernon exclaimed.

Harry nodded, giving a little laugh. "Yeah, personally. He's really great, real nice—"

"—You don't say!" Vernon interrupted. For once, Harry was saying something that pleased him, something that they both agreed on.

Dudley eyed Petunia warily; she looked just about the same. This wasn't going anywhere good. That was for sure.

"—He's also a wizard," said Harry in a bland tone.

Neither Petunia nor Dudley had time to react for Vernon had all ready dropped his wine glass, spilling liquid along the floor. Petunia made an "eep" of noise and hopped up to clean the linoleum. Dudley stared openmouthed at Dad.

"LIES!" Vernon protested. "LIES!"

"No," Harry rolled his eyes," I'm telling the truth. That's why he works so quickly. That's why he's protecting the minister, I read it in _The Daily Prophet—" _

"The WHAT? The daily WHAT?"

" Vernon, shh," Petunia said from the floor, indicating the open window.

Dudley moved his gaze to Harry.

"It's one of our newspapers," Harry said," and yes, Shacklebolt's a wizard, Uncle Vernon, and he's trying to protect Muggles… er, people like you."

"People like me!" Vernon roared. "People like ME?"

"Dad," Dudley said in a thick voice, breaking out of his stupor, "Dad, stop—"

Harry looked shocked.

" Dudley!" Dad shot back. "This matter doesn't concern you or—"

"Of course it does," Mum replied tersely, getting off the linoleum and wiping her hands on her apron, taking the mess to the garbage, the spill gone.

Now, Dudley, Vernon, and Harry turned to stare at _her. _

"Pet, the boy's being preposterous, and Dudders doesn't need to get invol—"

" Vernon, there isn't anything to be so enraged about," Petunia told him calmly, but still with her lips pursed, standing behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. "And Dudley was only trying to help—"

"I know," Vernon agreed, "but this one here," he said, indicating Harry. "Making trouble—"

"I'm not!" Harry burst out. "I'm _not _making trouble. I just want you to know that the stuff that's been happening—the buildings falling, the bridge—it's not just coincidence, and it's not, it's not—well… Not to be making trouble or anything, but it's Lord Voldemort."

Petunia said nothing, but nodded.

"Oh, speak ENGLISH!" Dad shouted.

"Don't you know by now?" Harry challenged. "Don't you listen? Lord Voldemort is the dark wizard who killed my parents, and he's BACK, and we're going to have a war, and don't you GET IT?"

Dudley was not alone in his staring now—both Mum and Dad were looking at Harry, slightly unnerved.

"Get what?" Petunia asked in a sharp tone.

Harry laughed, and then looked solemn. "The war's yours too, now—well, I don't mean it's yours to fight, but Voldemort knows the protection around this house will wear off on my seventeenth birthday, and then he'll be able to get inside—he won't spare you, not to scare you or anything—"

It was a little too late for that.

"Who does this Lord Voldie-what think he is, and how dare he?!" Vernon shouted.

"What, he's gonna kill us?" Dudley asked. He didn't like the sound of this.

Petunia frowned deeper. "What do we have to do?"

Harry answered each of them in turn: "Actually, Uncle Vernon, I agree with you. And yes, Dudley, I suspect he would if he happened upon the house and you were here." He looked at Mum. "You'll have to go into hiding—I've got all the information in my suitcase, they have a protection service set up—you'll be taken to some place where it's really safe—"

"By who?" Vernon prodded.

"How long's this gonna be?" Dudley wanted to know.

"Are you _sure _we'll be safe?"

"By wizards, Uncle Vernon, wizards like Kingsley who specialize in protection. And I don't know, Dudley—as long as the war lasts, can't say for sure, and… I can't say for sure you'll be completely safe either, but that's just because I haven't been there, and I haven't talked to a ton of people about it, but it was recommended to me by a load of people and I have friends whose Muggle parents and rellies have to do about the same thing, but you know…" He paused. "Voldemort wants me the most of anyone—"

Dudley snorted without thinking.

Harry glared at him. "Suppose he wants to finish the job, he got Mum and Dad, didn't he?"

"I—I wasn't—" Dudley struggled. "I wasn't meaning anything—"

"Surprise," remarked Harry quietly. "Anyway, I can contact some authorities who can explain more to you about what will have to happen, actually, someone's supposed to come any day now to—"

"No," Vernon said.

Harry, Dudley and Petunia stared at him.

"No?" Harry asked.

"No. First and foremost, how are we to trust that lot? Second of all, my work—and Dudders' education, how are we to explain, shall I just stroll into Smeltings and tell them, _right, sorry, but my nephew's wanted by some Lord Whatsywho, and sorry, but we must go hide!_ No, Potter! That won't happen—"

"I don't know how you'll deal with that, say you need time off, or something—"

"TIME OFF?" Vernon shouted.

Petunia finally locked the kitchen window. "I just don't see—"

"No one does!" Harry announced, suddenly looking desperate. "No one sees! No one wants it to be like this!"

"Ah," said Vernon, his black eyes narrowing. "I understand what it's about."

Harry looked over at him, appearing interested and a little shocked. "You do?"

_'Good, 'cause I don't,'_ Dudley thought, and waited.

"They want the house."

Dudley cocked an eyebrow. It had not been the response he was expecting. Judging by the look on Harry's face, he felt about the same.

"They want the house!" Vernon confirmed, as though he were convincing himself to remain very calm. "Your lot wants _our _house, and they're playing up this Lord Volder-whatsy so we don't get suspicious—"

Harry's eyes widened. "Uncle Vernon—"

"Don't try to tell me otherwise!" Vernon snarled. "Don't even try—"

Petunia hurriedly began to collect the dinner plates since no one was eating anymore (as though someone might start throwing the chinaware).

Dad, who was quite purple by this time, went on: "—it's gained worth over the past nineteen years we've lived in it! Gained! Not lost! Privet Drive is the chosen suburb in England, just consult _The British Business Journal_, and you'll see—"

"I don't doubt that!" Harry exclaimed. "But that has _nothing _to do with Lord Voldemort—you think he wants your house?"

"Not him specifically, but perhaps others—"

"Do you need it for… some sort of experiments?" Petunia put in.

"No! No one wants this house!" Harry shouted.

"Well, that's a complete lie!" Vernon said. "Just the other day, a gent asked me how much it was going for, said he fancied the shrubbery and the shutters, asked me about the greenhouse, he did!—"

Dudley gawked at Dad.

Harry breathed out very slowly. "Look… No one is trying to steal your house, Uncle Vernon. I'll get you the information. I'll give you the stuff I have about it. But that's all I can say—"

"That's a first!" Vernon said.

"—Can I be excused?" Harry demanded.

"Not until we sort this out and you admit that they want to take—"

"—Right, I can't sit here anymore, I need to get out of here," Harry announced, standing up. "I can't talk about this anymore—"

Dudley watched as his cousin calmly walked out of the room, and Dad continued to yammer on. He was completely lost now. He'd known something of Lord whatever, but he didn't know the exact details. He wasn't sure why the lord wanted Harry, of all people. And what did _getting _Harry entail? Would Harry be killed? Dudley swallowed. Would _he _be killed? Mum, Dad?

All of this was way too flustering, so he shoved his bulk away from the table and strode up to his room. He stopped to stare into Harry's bedroom, where Harry was shuffling through one suitcase quite loudly, and he was cursing under his breath. "Here's the bloody shit, here you go, gonna believe me, huh? Gonna believe me?" he was saying.

Dudley gaped. He'd never seen Harry quite like this—quietly furious. When they were little, Harry had hardly showed anger. Then, when he'd turned thirteen, it was more like annoyance, which had moved to insanity when they were fifteen, developed into hateful disregard—but now, he wasn't even yelling at anyone. His cousin snatched up quite a few papers, a roll of what looked like plain Christmas wrapping, and stormed out of the room, bumping into Dudley mistakenly, dropping everything he'd just gathered.

"Shit," Harry said in that same breathy, almost sad, angry tone. "Can't you move?" He bent over to pick up the papers.

Dudley stopped over, too. "I didn't mean to, I just…" he trailed off and tried to pick some of the fallen stuff up, but Harry snatched it all away too quickly, and stomped back down the stairs.

"Here," Dudley heard him announce. "Here, if you have any questions after you look at this, you can ask, but I'm leaving for awhile, I'll be back—"

At the sound of Dad and Mum questioning Harry even more Dudley shook his head and went into his room, grabbing _A Separate Peace. _

--

Mum and Dad talked quietly and somberly as Dudley read on the couch with a cold, wet towel over his head. It was rather hot all of a sudden—the weather was just insane, it had been cold this morning.

_"I still say they're after it—" _

_"_ _Vernon__, she… she told me a bit about Voldemort, he's very dangerous—" _

_"Yes, well, so are the Frogs, but you don't see them trying to steal our house from us—" _

Dudley shifted the towel down around his neck. The book was interesting, though it reminded him a bit of Colin Bard for some reason. Harry came home sometime around nine pm, and at once, Mum and Dad were pestering him for answers again. Dudley rather felt sorry for him, but he also wished they'd had done the same thing to him two summers ago.

Harry had calmed down considerably and was being very patient with Dad, who wouldn't shut up about everyone trying to steal things from him. He also went on a rant about how the government was messed up, and how Mr. Mason was stupid and still hadn't bought an order of Grunnings drills, and how that was Harry's fault, too. Dudley hardly knew what that had to do hiding. Finally, Mum started doing most of the talking, and the conversation went a lot smoother, though she and Harry talked a bit tersely at each other.

"Dudders has his last year—"

"—well, I've mine too, and I've got to stay out of school to fight—"

"—Preposterous," Petunia sniffed.

"Would you rather I sat back and did nothing?"

Petunia did not answer for a long time. "That isn't what I meant," she finally said quietly.

Dudley didn't know _what_ she meant, and it seemed Harry didn't either because he changed the subject. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind a break, I can't think why he'd want to be there—"

"He'll be behind—"

"But, you know, it's better than getting killed—"

"Why would Voldemort come to Smeltings!?"

"Aunt Petunia, I don't know! Wouldn't you just want to be safe?"

"Of course! I want Dudley to be fine—"

"Yeah? So _listen _to me!"

Dudley thought of the Dementors again and felt awful. The words were on the tip of his tongue but he didn't know how to get them out. They kept talking about his school, and how he'd want to be on a break, and where they'd be going, and whether or not he'd be able to bring work… He wondered why no one was asking him.

--

"Dudley," Harry was saying.

"Yeah?" Dudley looked up from his book at his cousin, who was standing to the side of the couch and staring strangely at him,

"The television isn't on."

Dudley looked over at it—sure enough, it was off. "Looks like it, yeah," he agreed slowly.

"Is it broken?"

"No," Dudley responded. "Don't… uh, don't think so. Haven't tested yet."

"But… you're _reading,"_ Harry said.

"Yeah, I like this book okay… it's a little hard at first I guess, but I like it. I can sort-of picture the stuff in my head how a movie is."

Harry looked a little freaked out. "Right, Dudley… well…good luck with that." He walked out of the room.

"Thanks," Dudley said gruffly. _'You could have told him sorry right then and you didn't! Damn.' _

* * *


	24. TweedleDum

**Note: **Thank you, Jay.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Tweedle-Dum**

* * *

"We just feel it's best," Petunia was saying, sitting at the kitchen table and peering out of the window periodically. "Mmhm, we most surely understand—and he would be happy to do any busy work you'd like to send. It's mandatory—well, we figure Dudley needs to take an… an educational sort of trip." She paused. "Somewhere far away!" she snorted in response. 

Almost two weeks had passed, and the Dursleys were preparing to "go into hiding", as Harry had put it. Dudley still couldn't get any sense out of anyone. Dad was always on about Lord Voldemort and That Lot wanting their house, but Harry had managed to convince him that it didn't really matter whether someone wanted it or not—when the "protection" left the house, anyone could get in, and staying there basically meant they were all screwed. However, that did not stop Dad from ranting about the situation whenever was possible. He also kept asking if he could speak to Shacklebolt on "these matters." Mum was quiet but very irritated—it was apparent in how she was vacuuming, and cleaning, and talking. Harry was through with all of them, it was clear, but unlike the last couple of years, he wasn't shouting hardly at all, and was relatively sane, but still with that strange sadness Clarice had pointed out. He often went to his room.

Dudley drank a cup of tea and ate his bran flakes without thinking about how much they tasted like bark. Vernon was working double overtime, if only to make himself feel worthy. Grunnings had willingly given him time off. After all, Dad had never taken a sick day and he'd never come in late. They seemed fine with him leaving— Dudley had a feeling they liked the idea of switching bosses for awhile. While Mum was still talking on the phone to the coordinators of Smeltings school, Dudley got up and put his dishes in the sink. It was nearly eleven, and Harry still was not out of bed.

Dudley hadn't spoken to Harry yet—he kept putting it off, and when Harry was there, he couldn't do it. There was too much to say. When he'd spoken to Clarice last year, it had been difficult, but at least there was a clear thing to talk about. With Harry, he'd have to say he was sorry for basically five million things. Or so it felt like. He'd been trying to make his intentions very obvious: He always said "please" and "you're welcome", he hadn't given Harry one nasty look, and he had refrained from laughter when Harry said something dramatic or odd. However, Harry didn't seem to be getting it.

He eyed the steaming teapot on the counter. _'Maybe I could bring him up some tea,'_ Dudley thought. It was a rather strange idea, but he figured Harry would appreciate the hot drink and see that Dudley was trying very hard to get along with him. He took out one of the best teacups in the glass cupboard and poured a cup. He wasn't sure if Harry took cream or sugar, so he put in a lot, since that was the way he liked it. He ambled up the stairs to Harry's room and listened at the door.

No sounds.

Dudley knocked quietly with his thick knuckles.

Nothing.

_'Oh well, I'll just leave it in front of the door.'_

--

"Hey Big D!"

"Hey, Mark, what's up?" grunted Dudley, pounding his trainers against the asphalt and pumping his weights.

The twelve year old boy grinned. "Nothin' much. You're huge!" he exclaimed. "I mean, you could take anybody out now; your arms are like the Hulk's!"

Dudley laughed. "Thanks, I guess."

"It's wicked cool."

"Thanks, Mark," the big teenager nodded, and kept running past. _'Will this be the last time I'll see that dopey little kid?' _he thought, and to his surprise, he felt a bit depressed about that. It was a stupid thought—surely they'd live through this wizard war, wouldn't they? After all, the place they were going to was supposed to protect them. But still… what if they came back to Privet Drive and it was all gone? No play park, no neat little houses, no corner store off Magnolia to steal from, no chavs, no snooty Carly Conner, no Malcom, no Gordon. Dudley paused and discovered he was standing just in front of Number Thirteen.

No Piers Polkiss?

Dudley exhaled, that sad feeling growing in his gut. Too many memories had happened here for him to leave without telling his old friend goodbye. Maybe they could even hang out with Clarice for awhile. Dudley smiled and headed toward the neat little house.

--

"Who are you?" asked a tall man with long sideburns and a curt voice.

Dudley looked down at him. "I'm a friend of Piers'."

"Ah ha, the young man from the boxing—is that correct?" asked the bloke, his tone changing at once. He held out his hand.

"Yeah," Dudley nodded. " Dudley," he offered, shaking the man's hand solidly.

"Mick, pleasure to meet you, Dudley, nice firm handshake. Piers tells me you're an in-fighter?"

Dudley stepped inside as Mick stepped back and shut the door. "More of a slugger now."

"Three championships won for Surrey!" Mick exclaimed. Dudley stared at him, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable. It was sort of like this Mick bloke wanted to be his new best mate.

"Yeah," Dudley responded. "Look, is Piers in?"

Mick's mouth turned downward again. "He's here. In his room."

"Right," Dudley said. Even though he figured this guy wasn't too bad of a person, he was a wee bit annoying and he'd made Piers angry. And homophobic or not, Dudley was still on his friend's side. He marched down the hallway to the end of the dark maroon rug. Much like his house, the photographs on the walls showed Piers' progress from a baby to a child. However, the pictures stopped after about third year, when Piers' dad had gone. Dudley knocked on the last door.

"I said I don't want any!"

Dudley sniggered. "Fine," he said.

"Dud? That you?" The door creaked open. "Hey." Piers opened the door a crack. "I didn't know you were—"

"Yeah, I just decided to drop by. Can I come in?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Piers nodded, opening the door wide enough for Dudley and then shutting it as soon as he got in. He was playing rap quietly on his silver stereo. The window was open, letting in a cool breeze, and the fan was whirring above them. Dudley didn't need to look around Piers' room, he knew it by heart—gory videos stacked on the black shelves, comic books, his neat little twin bed in the corner. Dudley noticed that the Playboy posters were still on the walls.

Dudley cleared his throat. "What's new?"

"Same. Just…" Piers stood against the door in front of a cricket poster and shrugged.

"Your mum fancy him?"

"Not really. I mean, sort of. She fucks him, if that's what you mean. Anyway, they both just happen to be in Surrey this weekend, so he's staying over."

"Oh," Dudley laughed in discomfort. "Well… at least she's getting some—"

"Ha, yeah." Piers grinned but he looked a little glum, his voice only a bit faster than Dudley's which was unusual. "What about you?"

"Huh? No, I haven't got laid since Sarah—"

Piers sighed. "Heh, no Dudley, I meant, what's new with you?"

"Oh." Dudley didn't know quite how to answer. He'd started packing to go into hiding, but then Dad had announced that they weren't going to, so Dudley had unpacked. Then Mum said they _were _going to, so Dudley had packed again. That was the most exciting thing that had happened that week.

"Same," Dudley shrugged," same old stuff." He had a pang, wishing he could tell Piers everything.

Piers sighed and leaned his head further against the door.

"Piers…" Dudley trailed off, finally comprehending the window and the ceiling fan, and a stale, faint, familiar smell. "Piers, were you blunting?"

"About an hour ago. Then this morning, too," Piers replied, looking away. "It's not like—"

"Relax, I don't give a shit," Dudley grunted," I'm not Clarice. Damien tried to sell me some last summer, I never told you—"

"It's not from Damien. It's another—another dealer, from Goode Row."

Dudley went silent. Goode Row was most definitely _not _good. It was the anti-Privet Drive. No picket fences, no kids going to Smeltings there.

Piers shrugged again. "It's a little weird right now."

"Oh." Dudley wasn't sure what that meant—queer stuff, maybe.

"You want one?" Piers asked, heading across the room and pulling open his desk drawer, grabbing a pack of cigarettes.

"Yeah, okay." Dudley took one from Piers and lit up. "Your mum and the bloke don't care?"

"They never come in here," Piers said listlessly. "I just have to keep the air smelling clean, whatever."

"What does Clarice say about all this?"

"Nothing, haven't seen her, don't talk to her much, she's in Majorca with her aunt, but I did get a postcard." Piers paused. "She's… she's got a boyfriend now."

"Oh yeah?" Dudley asked. "That… Michael bloke?"

"Mitchell, yeah, so you know?"

"Yeah, she told me something about him. Whatever, you know."

"Yeah. She says he's like, fucking shy. Like, they've been going since March but he still hasn't kissed her or nothing."

"Stupid prick," Dudley declared.

"Ha, yeah, you don't have problems with that, do you? Anyway, she says I was really good for her. An' you, too. She said it was good to have—" Piers put up his fingers to quote—" A 'purely physical attraction' as well as a friendship with you." He made a face.

Dudley couldn't help but snort. "She thinks _that _was physical? I mean, we just snogged a bit--"

Piers shrugged again. "She said you opened her eyes."

"I don't know if that's a good thing," Dudley replied, sitting down on the edge of Piers' bed.

"What? Why?"

Dudley looked up at the ceiling. "I shouldn't have even liked her."

"Well, at least she ain't stalking you—"

"True that," Dudley grunted with a smile. "Guess she wouldn't be such a bad stalker, though. I dunno, Piers. She's so prissy—I really don't know why I fancied her."

"It was probably good for you to have her be a little bossyboots toward you," Piers grinned.

"Thing is," Dudley went on, ignoring that comment," I never knew how bad I was towards her. Well, I mean… sure, I didn't make fun of _her_ that much, but…"

"You don't have to keep talking about this," Piers said, letting out smoke. "Whatever, we were little."

"Speak for yourself."

Piers hardly smiled.

Dudley kept going. "You know, I was thinking… I was thinking about all the times we had, way back in nursery school, in primary school… And I was thinking why didn't any of you ever beat me up?"

Piers looked taken aback. He let out a laugh. "What?"

"Come on, I'm serious. Why didn't one of you blokes just slam me in the face? Why didn't any of those kids we beat up come and get me? Why didn't Clarice and those girls get back at me even?"

"I dunno, I think the girls _did _get back at us a couple of times, remember when they threw water balloons at us?"

"I mean _really_," Dudley declared, who couldn't really remember the water balloon incident. _"Really _get back at me, not like that, like I said! Why'd you guys never do anything?"

"Truthfully?" Piers paused for a moment. "You were always the biggest. I think that's why none of the guys messed with you. And none of the kids messed with you because of that, too, and also 'cause they was scared out of their minds, wasn't just you being big, Dud, you were pretty nasty then—and Clarice? Why would Clarice want to get back at you!?"

"I don't know, guess I… I guess it's like I said, I remembered some of the stuff I used to say—"

"Yeah, well, like you told me, Dudley, that shit's in the past. It don't matter anymore," Piers said easily, in fact, much more sure of himself than Dudley had seen in a long time. "Sure you can remember it, but it doesn't matter now."

"That's deep, Piers," Dudley said. "Really."

"Heh, I guess. It's true, though." Piers ran a hand through his brown bangs, still the same, wiry little nervous kid. It was amazing how much had changed, and how much hadn't.

"Except… now I think it matters," Dudley replied.

Piers did not reply.

It was obvious they were in disagreement about this issue again—weirdly, they'd flipped since two summers ago. Dudley was perfectly willing to accept that the past had everything to do with his problems now, and he was intent on fixing it, or at least helping soothe the wounds that had been left. But Piers seemed a little helpless. Or angry, or both. There was a long silence. All of a sudden, Dudley couldn't take it anymore:

"I'm not going to be at school this comin' year," he said firmly. He paused and realised just how weird it felt to talk about that aloud. Still, no one in the house had consulted him over the hiding—Mum kept hugging him and apologizing, but that didn't count.

It felt good to see Piers' brown eyes widen with a sort of intrigue. "Why!? What did you do?"

Dudley laughed and shook his head. "Nothin'! We're goin' on a trip."

"All year?" Piers put out his cigarette and tossed it out the window, and Dudley followed suit. "Why? What for? Where?"

Dudley rolled his eyes. _'God.' _"I don't know. Somewhere far off," he said, remembering Mum on the phone that morning.

Piers snorted. "Rich, Dud. Come on, where?"

"I don't know, like, maybe America or China or something." As soon as Dudley said this, he knew it was a mistake.

"Well, that's a toss-up, isn't it!" Piers declared. " America _or _China? What're your mum and dad doing, trying to get you lost?"

_'I really need to work on thinking up smarter lies,' _Dudley thought. "They're coming, too."

Piers sputtered. "What? All year? A trip, all year with your parents?"

"Yeah, a little bad, isn't it?"

"I don't know… Homework or Mrs. Dursley, take your pick."

"Oi!" Dudley said wryly. "Anyway, they reckon we needed some time away." He shrugged. If only they'd truly decided that on their own.

"Well… it might be cool, you never know." Piers paused. "But… Your _dad?_ In _America_ Doesn't he hate Americans?"

"More like he hates everyone," Dudley replied. "He thinks that the wiz—" At once, Dudley stopped talking and paled. He'd almost begun to tell Piers of how Vernon was afraid that the wizards were interested in stealing Number Four. "Er… He thinks that… the government… is coming," he put in at once, knowing how forced and dumb that sounded.

"Coming? Like, for him?" Piers laughed.

"Yeah," Dudley nodded, glad that his friend knew Dad was loony enough to actually say something like that, but still very terrified at how close he'd been to admitting the truth.

The truth would be way better, though! How cool and crazy would it be to tell everyone that he had to go into hiding because his cousin was wanted by some Dark Lord Voldiemore, or something! And that the magic people were having some war, and that was what was making bridges fall down and shit like that! Dudley had never really thought about the prospects of magic, but man, if they could make bridges collapse, he could only imagine what other cool stuff they could do. Like some action movie!

"Saw Harry the other night," Piers said, which was kind of ironic in itself. "He was walking by Magnolia when I got off the bus. I would have said hello if he'd have looked up but he just sorta walked off all quiet."

"Probably best you didn't talk to him. He's—he's got a lot to do," Dudley finished slowly.

Piers looked surprised at this explanation but said nothing about it. "You know, I get all angry at Mum and shit but I guess it would be a lot worse to go along with both your mum and dad dead."

Dudley looked at Piers, dully agape. After all, he'd never really thought about it like that before.

"Anyway," Piers went on, not noticing Dudley's quiet epiphany, "Mum and Mick've invited me to come with them to the sea."

"Why the sea?" Dudley laughed, thinking of Mum, and Sarah, and Newport.

Piers didn't get the amusement. "Dunno, guess we're staying at a resort included in Mum's work package. I leave tomorrow."

"Cool," Dudley said unenthusiastically; Piers looked like he felt the same. "Well, that means I won't be seeing you, I guess."

"I guess," Piers replied.

"Look…" Dudley began, "About before…" He swallowed. Now this was less hard than his difficulty in talking to Harry because he actually _liked _Piers. But it was still a challenge being that it was uncomfortable. "I just can't talk about gayness, I—"

"Let's just leave it at that, yeah?" Piers asked in a blank voice.

"I mean—"

" Dudley, it's fine, whatever, I shouldn't have expected you to…"

"I don't know," Dudley muttered, feeling stupid as usual. He didn't exactly want Piers to be straight _instead_ of gay… it would just be easier if he wasn't barmey enough to like blokes. Dudley would have settled for an asexual Piers, a Piers who was still an eight year old whose only interest was tagging along and holding down kids for Dudley to punch. Except… Dudley didn't really want to beat anymore kids up; it was the simplicity he wanted. But Dudley did not want to be eight years old himself, so this little fantasy didn't even make sense. "I just… don't know, Piers," he repeated.

"Okay," Piers nodded, opening the door. "I guess I'll see you sometime."

"I guess," Dudley nodded. Piers kept looking at the floor, so without another word, Dudley left, shutting the door firmly behind him, feeling as though he was leaving much more than simply an old friend and the earthy smell of marijuana.

"You should tell Piers to start competing," Mick yelled from the parlour as Dudley picked up his weights by the front door and walked out, ignoring him.

--

_'Stupid queer Piers,'_ thought Dudley, but he was more saddened than angry. It sucked that he and Piers had to end up this way, but he figured there wasn't another choice. It also got him down that Clarice wasn't here. _'Will I ever see her again?' _he thought. There really wasn't a point, he figured, since she had some nice guy named Mitchell who was probably all romantic and knew the right shit to say, and took girls home without being asked to, and didn't eat like a pig, and… Without meaning to, Dudley was gripping his dumbbells furiously. He didn't mind that Clarice had found a boyfriend really, but it was that added to everything else that pissed him off.

_'Go home and see what we've got to eat,' _he thought suddenly, imagining himself enjoying some sort of snack. _'Wait—no. That's not gonna make you feel better._' Glad he'd sorted that one out, Dudley decided to run further down the block as hard and fast as he could. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, thinking back to so many times, times he'd re-visited that past Christmas, like Harry ending up on the roof at school, and other times he was only just remembering. He got a short recollection of nursery school, and Clarice and Harry playing house.

_"Make the dog go in the cupboard," _Dudley had said when Harry pretended to bite Clarice. _"The dog was bad!" _When Clarice had refused to put the "bad dog" in the art closet, Dudley had took it to be his duty to shove Harry in there himself. He'd pushed Harry in and locked the door, and when the teacher had let Harry out and demanded to know Dudley's reasoning for doing such a thing, Dudley simply told her that the cupboard was where Harry went because he was bad.

Dudley ran faster, past the trees where he, Piers and Clarice had Sarah-Hunted last summer, the same trees where Dudley and the gang had smoked out behind at age fourteen. He crossed Magnolia Crescent through the alley where the Dementors had attacked, where he and Harry had ran together and argued and fought. He pounded through the alleyway, seeing the faded graffiti Dennis had put on the side of the cement wall when they were all fifteen: 'FUCKING SLAGS' with a pair of tits. Dudley had to laugh; someone had obviously tried to soap it off to no avail, and had instead made the breasts look like mountains.

When Dudley passed Privet Park, he had to slow down a bit. There were a few younger kids swinging and going on the teeter-totter, but there was also a gaggle of young teen boys wearing Burberry caps, clean trainers and large jerseys glaring by the slides. They looked about fourteen or fifteen, and very, very small.

So much had gone on in Privet Park. Playing with Piers in the sandbox, making fun of girls, Petunia packing a lunch basket and holding he and Harry by their shirts when they crossed the streets, back when Privet Park had only been sand and some swings. Then when the park had been renovated, and made to appeal to the older kids, Dudley and crew had spent night after night there. They'd been right little bastards, yes, but Dudley couldn't deny the fun they'd had—vandalizing the slides, throwing rocks at passing cars and running away as fast as their sagging trousers would permit them, showing off for the girls. Mary-Anne and the building of his ego. Melanie, the first girlfriend, a few snogs before farewell.

And then the Sarah Summer, strange as the Potter Summers. Getting high with Harry and Sarah, sex in the gazebo, Damien's party, pregnancy scare… Dudley shook his head. He was glad he'd gotten the sense knocked into him by that Dementor, or else he might still be one of those glaring kids in the play park. Plus a pram?

Dudley turned back onto the main sidewalk and ran back home, noting the road out of Privet Drive that they'd used to escape from all the owls when he and Harry had been eleven. It seemed kind of funny now—Dad humming and boarding up the windows. For once, Dudley and Harry had been very equal in their confusion. And then, Harry had left. Left Dudley to be the unbothered only child he was always supposed to be. He didn't have to listen to Dad and Mum complaining about Potter. He didn't have to eat quite as much. It should have been perfect but it never was. Mum and Dad were still very naïve. Mum was still over-emotional and obsessed with disinfectant. Vernon was still stuck on work and drills, and was a bit insane. Dudley still was a bully.

Harry or not, they were a dysfunctional family. Harry just happened to add more strangeness to the mix.

All of these memories struck Dudley as odd. He'd never liked Little Whinging. He'd always thought it was boring, and considered the people the same. But now that they were leaving, it all seemed kind of quaint, in a painful way. He wouldn't necessarily miss it. He just hoped it would never change.

"Dursley?!"

Dudley turned to his left. There was old Mrs. Figg standing in her yard. She waved with a smile. He stopped running and stood on the sidewalk, bringing one hand up and waving with a dumbbell in hand.

"Well!" she declared. "Goodness boy, don't let me interrupt your workout!"

Dudley shook his head as though to indicate it was okay, and made to walk forward. He could tell her how he'd dropped the gang, and found nice friends. He could ask her more about Harry. But for some reason, she looked as though she didn't want him to come see her.

"Go on!" she exclaimed sharply, waving her hand. "Get going, Dursley."

He backed up at her stern tone and shrugged to himself, continuing down the sidewalk. He threw a look back at her to see if she was peeved at him or something, but to his great confusion, it looked like she was crying.

--

"Diddy, did you leave this in the hallway?" Petunia asked from the sink when Dudley passed by the kitchen upon his arrival at the house. She was holding up the teacup he'd left outside Harry's door, readying herself to scrub it clean.

"Uh…"

"You mustn't forget your tea in the hall," she twittered," someone could knock it over and stain the carpet. Funny boy." She smiled at him adoringly.

"Yeah," he agreed, and then sighed as he walked away. But that would not stop him from repeating the same thing the next morning. Dudley was determined that Harry have his tea! After all, _then, _it would be obvious that he was attempting to be civil.

At that moment, the phone rang. Petunia wiped her hands on a dishrag and picked up the receiver: "Hello? Why, yes he is! Hold just a moment, please." She smiled. "Diddykins, it's for you."

Dudley didn't bother asking who it was. No one called him anymore besides Piers and Clarice. "Hello," he said deeply.

Strangely, there was muffled laughter on the other end of the phone, and not simply from one person, but at least three. "Shut it, it's him!" said the loudest voice.

"Oi," said the voice. " Dudley?"

"_Uh. _Yeah?" Dudley asked bluntly, twisting the cord around his thick fingers. "Who's this, then?"

More laughter.

"Dudley, listen," said the voice," you a fat tosser!"

"Who's this?" Dudley demanded gutturally. Petunia raised her eyebrow and put down the dish she was drying.

"You don't know? Got me kicked out of school, you minge-licking twat!"

Laughter. Dudley went red and stared at the receiver, his mouth hanging open. _'I didn't get nobody kicked out of school. Who the hell? Who knows that--' _he blushed deeper. Petunia stared at him. _'What?' _she mouthed. He shook his head.

The voice sniggered meanly and went on. "You fucking liar, your cousin don't even _go _here, God, you're such a dickhead—"

"Dennis?" grunted Dudley, his heart skipping a beat. If it _was _Dennis, his accent had certainly become even more chavvy than the last time they'd spoken. They both used to speak with upper class drawls, and then lower when they'd begun to hang at the park. But now, Dennis was going for some harder sort of thug approach.

Dennis laughed like a hyena. He sounded even crazier than before. "I hear you're banging that little bitch Clarice. She any good?"

"No--uh! I mean, I'm not--" Dudley's blue eyes widened.

But it was too late. The blokes on the other end of the line burst into booming guffaws. "No," one voice gasped. "He said _no!"_

"Later, fuckwit!" More laughter. Dennis, or whoever was in control of the phone, hung up.

His blood boiling, Dudley followed suit and put the phone on the receiver. He cracked his knuckles. _'If Dennis is here for summer break from that stupid Saint Brutus then I could just go to his house right now and beat the shit out of him.'_ He tried to breathe, and pulled on his collar. _'Well, that's mental, there's at least two other guys with him and if it wasn't Malcom and Dennis, maybe I couldn't take them…' _He shook his head. _'That's stupid! I could take anybody. But maybe… I don't** want** to. Yeah, maybe I don't want to.' _

Petunia looked alarmed, as it was very obvious from the expression on his face that he was having an internal struggle. "Well, who was it, popkin?"

Dudley took a deep breath. "Oh… someone from school. Couldn't uh—couldn't really hear the bloke, bad phone or… something."

Petunia's eyebrow did not go back into his original position, though. "Sweetie, are you _sure?_ You look distressed! Are you all right?"

For a moment, Dudley considered telling Mum that his old friends hated him, and apparently now thought many very hateful things about him: many embarrassing things, some of which were undeniably true, but more that were unfair and a fabrication. He imagined even _uttering _the phrase "minge-licking twat" to his mother. Going doubly red, Dudley shrugged his great shoulders.

"Naw, Mum, it's fine," he said. "It's fine." Because, actually, it _was _fine. As long as Dennis stayed on his end of Privet Drive, there would be nothing to worry about.

* * *


	25. Cheshire

**AN: **Thank you so much for waiting it out! I got several reviews asking if the story is finished-- no way! Just so you know, I'm planning to have at least 30 chapters, plus an eplilogue. It's all planned out, so it shouldn't take _too _long. Again, thanks for all the encouragement and support. Thanks to Jay. Also, you should check out ChristallineColey on deviant art- she was awesome and did a great fanart of Dudley! As always, review!

**UPDATE: **I ended up bumping this to M, just to be safe, mainly for the language and violence. I'm a paranoid little freak and I don't want it to get pulled! May change. Anyway, yeah. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: ****Cheshire**

Dudley awoke with a start. Someone had just shrieked; he was sure of it.

_"It's you!" _screamed Mum's voice from downstairs. She sounded frightened, or disturbed.

"Mum?" Dudley questioned. "Mum!" He stepped solidly out of bed and pounded out of his room as fast as his thick build would permit. Reaching the landing, he gazed down over the foyer. Mum was standing in front of the door as though guarding something, like she didn't want the person outside to enter.

Some men were talking to her. "It's okay, we're not going to hurt you," one voice said.

"You fucker," muttered Dudley in a low voice, still half-asleep. His blood pounded. _'Making trouble with Mum, I'll rip them apart, fuck niceness,' _was what he thought in a scattered flash, thumping down the stairs. He stepped off the staircase.

"Diddy, no!" Mum cried out, but Dudley stepped in front of her.

"Whas' the big idea?" he snarled, his eyes falling upon two middle-aged men. One was black, tall and solid while the other was balding, red-haired and lanky. The redheaded man was strangely familiar. _'Toffee,' _thought Dudley dully. _'Wizards? Harry's… friend?' _Blearily, he checked the man's hands for candy, and subconsciously trailed his hands back over his bottom.

"Hello there, son— Dudley, is it? Remember me? I'm Arthur Weasley," announced the freckled bloke, smiling cheerily. "We're not making trouble, we'd just like to come in and discuss some matters—"

Dudley shrank backward like Mum and looked at her. "What do they want?" he asked.

"Now, just let me explain—" said the red-haired man.

"Arthur, let me handle this." The well-built black man stepped forward holding out his hand to Dudley. "All right, sir? I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. I'm the head of Muggle Security—"

"Keep your voice down!" Petunia hissed.

"Mum, ain't this the one Dad fancies?" Dudley asked with a yawn. He turned back to the man, who looked very normal. "Dad sees you on telly," he explained.

Still holding out his hand, Shacklebolt smiled. "Does he, now? Great man, the prime minister--"

Finally, Dudley noticed the outstretched hand. "Uh… Dudley," he said, shaking the other man's hand firmly. "This is Mum—er—Petunia."

"Your father's in the bathtub," Petunia whispered, as though they all might be punished for conversing on the front porch as soon as Dad was through bathing.

Dudley shrugged at Shacklebolt and decided his work was done. _'Don't seem to be harming nothing,' _he determined, and ambled back upstairs to return to bed. He passed Harry on the stairway, who nearly bounded to the two blokes in excitement, laughing and shaking their hands with a sort of enthusiasm Dudley had never personally expressed.

"It's okay," Harry was saying," I know them."

Dudley couldn't help but think that Harry knew these weird wizard people loads better than he and his parents. And they were Harry's family, after all.

What seemed like minutes after that ordeal, Dudley awoke _again _to more shouting. This time, it sounded like Dad's voice. Dudley stretched and checked the clock. It was noon. He decided against joining the little meeting downstairs. That would be too risky. Instead, he got out of bed once again and hung over the landing.

"I respect you thoroughly," Dad was saying loudly," but I just don't understand this, this conspiracy!"

"You're not at all out of place in this assumption, Mr. Dursley. There are plenty of people out there who want to scam you right and left but we're not here to do that!" insisted Shacklebolt's voice.

_'Well, no wonder Dad likes this guy,' _Dudley mused. Sure enough, he heard Vernon pound what was probably the kitchen counter.

"Now, thank you! Thank you for admitting that fact! My nephew, being that he reads the paper and all, no idea why, seems to think I'm simply making things up—"

Dudley tried to listen to all of it, but it was boring, and a bit difficult to understand. Shacklebolt kept promising them secure protection. He was making wherever they were going to sound like a really nice place. He said it was somewhere "muggle" where wizards wouldn't look, but likewise, "muggles" wouldn't be able to find it either. Dudley wondered how that was even possible. He had to hand it to Dad: it all certainly _sounded _like a scam. What if all they wanted _was _the house?

--

They'd still been packing and unpacking, depending on Dad's mood. More than anything now, Dad was nervous. He kept bringing their belonging downstairs, then thinking better of it. Dudley was still undecided about the ordeal, but at least he had better nerves than Vernon. He was beginning to feel less like his Dad every day, but he still couldn't see the relation to Mum.

_She _kept cleaning—dusting, mopping, vacuuming. She also kept going emotional. "We have to take this!" she kept announcing, taking yet _another _family portrait off the wall. She'd all ready filled a large box with them, and she continued to add more. Harry kept telling her that it was impractical behavior, that she'd have no way to carry framed photographs with her, but she acted as though he were threatening her well-being, and kept to it. She'd stacked box after box in the living room filled with possessions they wouldn't use and didn't need—Dudley's baby clothes, an old stroller, her dolls from when she was a child, Vernon's Grunnings papers…

Dudley had followed Harry's example and tried reasoning with her, telling her to stop packing so much, but when he did it, it seemed to make her sad. "We need these," she kept saying, "we need these." Harry acted disgusted. Dudley wished he could get how hard this was for them. This was their house.

Strangely though, Dudley had no trouble packing. He remembered that trip they'd taken when he and Harry were eleven, and how he'd gotten a smack for taking much too long stuffing his case with all of his wordly possessions— Dudley grinned, recalling his attempt to bring the television and computer along with them. But this time, he only needed his clothes, weight set, music, and the two novels from Miss Hunt. Then, he stuck in a porno magazine at the bottom of the bag, just in case they got stranded wherever they were going. He sort of figured he wasn't going to be doing much fucking.

Harry stuck to his room, after being cross-examined by Vernon and snapped at by Petunia one too many times. Dudley couldn't blame him, but wished he'd reappear soon, since he still hadn't had the guts to say he was sorry about everything.

"Hey Mum," Dudley greeted one particular morning. Petunia said nothing; she was still searching behind the armoire for good silverware she said had gone missing and seemed not to have heard him. Not at all vexed, Dudley looked densely at the line of boxes she'd added to the living room. At the top was a cardboard carton she'd marked FAMILY. He ambled over and peered inside. There were tons of old family videos!

Dudley stuck in one huge, pink hand and rifled through them as though they were gold. **_Dudders Wins, 1996_**was the one highest to the top. Dudley dug deeper. **_Dudley's Thirteenth B-Day, 1993_**—_that _had to be a good one, Dudley thought with a snort. He couldn't remember if he'd even left the couch for it. **_Duddy and Dad_**, **_Dudders in London_** **_Dudley_****_ at Auntie Marge's_** **_Dudley_****_ and Piers 1987_**. He kept digging, wondering if every fucking moment of his life had been documented on video camera. Finally, he got one that had a label he did not recognize: **_Lily von Beethoven!_**

_'Lily?' _he thought. He kept digging below where he'd found that video and unearthed another. **_Lily and James_**. He searched further. **_Lily's Graduation!_**_, **Lily—solo**… _This Lily seemed as though her entire life had been captured as well. And then, a label with one very faded word: **_Petunia!_**

Dudley looked up quickly at his mother, who was still searching around on the floor. _'Petunia? Mum! It's a tape of Mum!' _Without another thought, he crossed the room and popped the tape into the VCR. Pushing Play, he stepped back. Static filled the screen for the first few seconds, and then there came a kitchen with lots of blue and white. It was bright and clean.

The person holding the video camera must have been Mum's mother: _"What are you doing, Tuney?" _she asked, as the camera focused on the kitchen tile.

The so-called Tuney was a small, blonde girl who was no more than six. She had a long ponytail and was wearing a frilly pinafore. She was painstakingly moving what looked to be a bowl of dried beans into a cup. _"I'm playing," _she annunciated shrilly,"_ and I'm not making a mess." _Dudley smiled, a little embarrassed in a weird way. It was funny to see Mum as a kid.

The mother laughed and there was a man's laugh, too, from somewhere outside the kitchen. Just then, a redhead girl about Mum's age skipped into the shot and looked at the camera straight-on. She had loose red hair and a big smile. _"Hi!" _she waved.

_"Hi, Lil!" _said the mother.

Lily was obviously no stranger to the camera. She was a cute little girl and knew just what to do when adults were recording. She started reciting what sounded like nursery school chants with her hands behind her back.

_"STOP!" _cried out little Petunia suddenly. _"STOP! It's MY TURN!" _She shoved Lily out of the way.

At that moment, the adult Petunia ran across the living room and shut off the television. Her whole body was shaking.

Dudley stared. "Mum… I…"

"Let's not look at that old thing," she said. Her tone was loving but still, he could sense bitterness there, too. She clacked over to the VCR, seized the tape, and threw it back into the box.

"Mum… was that… your sister?" Dudley asked very slowly.

Petunia cringed, and then put on a smile. "Diddy, have you packed absolutely everything you'll need?"

"Yeah Mum, but…"

"Clean underpants?"

Dudley blushed, a little horrified. "Uh—yes—"

"I just _don't _know what you're going to eat! I'll have to ask Harry—"

_'Oh yeah, like Harry gives a shit about that,' _Dudley thought to himself, watching Mum leave the room. He looked back at the home movies. _'Sure made her upset.' _He wanted to know more, but communication really wasn't Petunia's thing.

--

**"MOTHER OF ALL THINGS GOOD AND HOLY!" **came a roaring bellow, and a very large something crashed onto the stairs.

Dudley, Harry and Mum, who had been sitting in the kitchen, all avoiding each other for different reasons, ran together out into the foyer. It seemed that the large something had been Dad, for he was lying flat on his stomach on the stairs. Dudley's large blue duffel bag was lying beside him.

" Vernon!" Mum burst out, running up the steps to assist the red-faced man. "Whatever happened--?"

"WHAT—DAMN IT—WHO—A TON OF BRICKS?" Vernon managed to say, as she helped him to sit up.

Harry snorted and Dudley tried to work out what had happened. He looked at his duffel bag again. He looked up at Dad.

"Did… did you try to lift that?" Dudley asked, with the tiniest hint of amusement. Harry actually flashed a grin in his direction.

" DUDLEY—WHAT—YOU KEEP—ROCKS?" Vernon groaned, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

"Er… Sorry, Dad. I er… I packed my weights in there—didn't know you'd be taking it downstairs…"

" DUDLEY!" Dad moaned.

Dudley turned away and started laughing quietly, but he made like he had to go do something so Dad wouldn't notice.

--

"Thanks," said Dudley as Harry passed the mashed potatoes at dinner.

"You're welcome," Harry murmured.

"Uh… thanks _a lot," _Dudley said louder.

"You're… welcome… a lot?" Harry replied in a question, giving Dudley a You're-So-Annoying look that could have been pulled _right _out of their childhood.

Dudley tried to give him a meaningful look, but Harry just raised his eyebrows.

"I mean… I mean, _thank you," _Dudley hinted a little louder.

"I said you're welcome! God, Dudley!"

"I just mean—"

"CUT IT OUT YOU TWO, WOULD YOU PLEASE?" bellowed Vernon, looking dangerous, getting that crazy look in his eye. No one dared look at him or speak for the rest of the meal.

Harry left shortly after, putting his plate in the dishwasher. Dudley refused a second helping of skinless chicken and Petunia folded her hands and smiled.

"What?" Dudley asked, finishing his green beans.

"I just think it's sweet how you've got so much on your mind."

Dudley stared, completely blank. _'What?' _So much on his mind? Mum couldn't possibly know what was on his mind! Honestly, _he_ was quite lost on what had been on his mind. Clarice, Mick's obsession with sports, Piers and gays, Harry, moving, not moving, wanting to smoke weed, and getting someone (anyone!?) to fuck had been pretty frequent ponderings. "Huh?"

"You keep forgetting your tea in the hall," Mum said lightly. "Every day this week. You _need _to remember to drink it all and take it downstairs, Duddy. Otherwise, someone could knock it over and spill or break the china."

"Oh," Dudley said, relieved that Petunia had no idea about what was really on his mind. But still, she'd reminded him of the most important thought of all: Harry, and the apology. It was so hard to even look at Harry, and then when Dudley was ready, it was the wrong moment.

_'Oh well,' _Dudley thought, getting up from the table. _'If it ends up I can't tell him here, I'll have loads of time to tell him while we're in hiding together.' _

In the meantime, he needed to get that tea to Harry!

--

Dudley had run from his house to the town centre, and was now walking back, his music blaring in his ears. He wiped sweat off his brow. With this big workout he'd committed to twice a day, he'd really been bulking up and filling out, even more then just months ago when school had ended. Mum had commented that he'd gotten even _taller_, and it was strange to feel so in-shape.

He crossed Magnolia Crescent, looping around from the park and headed under the dingy tunnel near the main highway that led into Privet Drive. He exhaled and trudged along, his rap music pulsing. _Clank, clank. _

Dudley paused, turning down his music. The old tunnel usually echoed quite loudly, but those had not been his footsteps; he was sure of it. He continued walking again, but slower this time. _Clank, clank, clank. _There it was again. _'Weird,_' he thought. Echoes shouldn't take that long to register—it was definitely the loud sound of footsteps, but there'd been no one behind him walking and no one was in the tunnel in front of him.

He turned off his discman and slowly turned around. His heart stopped though he barely jumped when he saw the figures directly behind him.

"All right, Big D," greeted Dennis Clarke, who was grinning in a very wild way. He'd definitely grown up. He was over six feet tall and still broad, with strong shoulders and gleaming straight teeth. His dimples showed, as deceivingly innocent as ever, his sandy brown ruffled hair half-hidden by a sideways Burberry cap. Beside him were two boys of a similar build, with set jaws and empty eyes.

Dudley's first instinct was to gape at them, and then he glared. "Dennis," he said. "Or is it Medium D, then?"

Dennis threw his head back and gave a whooping laugh like a psychopath. "Now it's mostly Menace," he grinned, "but bein' MD sure had its perks. Gotta boss around those knob-sucking pussies, in'it, Dudley?"

The two henchmen of Dennis proceeded to flash each other looks that expressed they had no intent on being 'knob-sucking pussies' to anyone. Dudley tried to think of something to say. He didn't know what Dennis was playing at, but if he was intercepting him in a dark tunnel away from the busy part of the neighborhood with two other blokes, this couldn't be good.

"Which reminds me," drawled Dennis in that very put-on lower London accent," how _is _Queers?" The thugs laughed.

"How's what?" grunted Dudley, looking from bloke to bloke, sizing them up. No matter how tall he was, how strong, how built he was compared to this crew, there were three of them. And one of him.

"Queers Knob-kiss," Dennis laughed, grinning some more like a loony. "I hear you two suck each other off these days—"

Dudley surged with rage and tried to breathe. "I don't know what the hell you want, but you best be movin' _off." _

"Oh, Dud, have a bit of fun. How's your mum, anyway? Mm, Petunia…" Dennis pressed, snaking a hand down to the front of his trousers. He leered. "_She'd _have a bit of fun with me—"

"You—" Dudley balled a fist without thinking, but Dennis coolly flicked out his wrist. Dudley didn't know what was going on until he saw the shimmering metal of the knife in Dennis' hand, as shiny and beguiling as Dennis' perfect teeth. The two thugs grinned.

Dennis _tsk tsk'd_ and shook his head merrily. "Wouldn't try anything, Dudley. Really, really wouldn't." He raised up his right hand, the knife flickering in the dim light. He walked forward. Dudley swallowed and stepped backward, thinking wildly of what to do next.

_'Dennis is going to kill me,' _he thought dimly,_' well, he wouldn't, would he? Is he—should I hook him, no 'cause then those assholes'll try something—but…' _He stared at them desperately. "Back off, Dennis," he said deeply and loudly, his voice echoing off the walls on the tunnel. In the distance, he could hear children playing in the park. Cars roared above them. No one was ever going to hear. "Come on, Dennis," he pleaded.

Cackling, Dennis threw back his head again. _"Come on, Dennis, please Dennis!" _he mocked in a high voice and then as though he'd remembered something, he perked up. "Oh _yeah. _Meant to tell you on the telephone, Dud. Sarah is a _very _good fuck." He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Dudley raised up his head, his every muscle twinging, and anger swelling inside him. In this second, he caught Dennis' eyes. They were childlike and wide, and those _dimples. _"You… and Sarah…?" Dudley managed to get out. The other blokes laughed

"Oh yeah. We had all kinds of fun." Dennis grinned wider. "Well. Leastways, _I _did."

In one move, Dudley slammed Dennis' arm with a balled fist. The knife flung out of his hand and clattered to the pavement.

"OI!" yelled out one of Dennis' cronies, and threw a hard punch to Dudley's jaw. The three boys crowded him. He panted and pressed against the tunnel wall, his heart thumping, his jaw pounding. Dudley made to shove past them.

"You dick!" The same guy threw three more punches and Dudley yelled out, feeling warm blood coming from somewhere. His head hurt too much to discern from where.

The other bloke pounded him in the stomach. Dudley doubled over, and Dennis took the opportunity to grab his knife off the ground. Dudley considered kicking him in the face, but that was probably not a good option.

"Hold him," said Dennis with a sick smile. "I gotta teach Big D that being fat don't make you a threat."

Dudley wanted to point out he was hardly "fat" anymore, maybe "large" was a better word, but still his face burned. He had no idea what Dennis was going to teach him with a knife. He was crushed that Sarah and Dennis had hooked up; he wondered if she'd said shit about him, personal things? He wondered if Sarah had _willingly _hooked up with Dennis. He just wanted to go home. He felt like he was thirteen, and twelve, and five, and fourteen and seventeen all at once.

The blokes advanced, holding him by the shoulders. There was nothing he could do.

"Come _on_, Dennis!" he sputtered.

"I'll teach you for bossing me around all those years," smiled Dennis, but still looked strangely friendly as he raised the knife to Dudley's thick neck. "I was never one of your little bitches, Dudley, remember that—"

"I—I—" Dudley said, and coughed, as blood dripped onto his shirt.

Dennis grazed Dudley's neck with the dull side of the blade. Dudley flinched and slammed his palm forward into the boy's chest. Dennis staggered backward cursing. One of the thugs grabbed Dudley by his collar and slammed him into the wall several times.

"Stop," Dudley said, his voice faint. His thoughts were swirling.

"Aw, does Big D need his mummy?" someone asked, but Dudley just saw black. He waited for one of them to kick at him because for some reason, he was on the ground.

"HEY YOU LOT!" came a very loud, almost squeaky voice. _'Hey you lot' _came the echo. Dudley raised his head off of the pavement.

Cam Ryan and Mark Evans were standing at the end of the tunnel with at least five other kids. "We've called the coppers, you bastards!" yelled Mark, "so get away from him!"

"Suck me," Dennis grinned, shrugging.

"Dennis, shit, man, come on!" said one of the thugs. "Let's go!"

"Come on, man, we've all ready got a warning—" said the other.

"He ain't called anybody, I know this little shit," Dennis explained coolly," and if he has, I don't care—"

"Yes I have!" Cam declared, holding up a mobile.

"Shit," repeated the crony, and in a flash, the two protectors ran off.

Dennis still smiled calmly. "Maybe you don't get it—"

"Maybe YOU don't!" Cam yelled, and before Dudley could bat an eyelash, the lanky blond kid ran forward and did some sort of kick to Dennis' crotch.

Dennis stopped smiling and stared, and though he wasn't shocked as a normal person should be, he still looked confused. "What the—"

"Get out of here, Dennis!" Cam yelled, and then did some sort of fancy turn and kicked Dennis _again._

"Shit! Little freak!" Dennis growled, one hand to his front, which Dudley figured must have been pretty sore at this point.

"We know tae kwon do, too," Mark said, gesturing to the other boys standing behind him," so you'd best be going."

Dennis made a face, but hurried off, slipping the knife back into his sagging jeans.

Dudley kept still, looking up at all of the twelve year old kids with a look of bewilderment. He slowly got to his feet, pushing himself up by his huge hands and blinking. It had all happened so fast.

"Big D!" Cam exclaimed. "We heard him planning something about you in the park yesterday so we was prepared." He raised up the mobile. "It's broken. But anyway, you okay, man?"

The boys waved at him but still hung back as though remembering his previous identity.

Nodding, Dudley sniffed and wiped his arm across his face. Blood spread across his arm and he raised his eyebrows, touching around his jawline and nose. "Those sods," he muttered, realizing it was both his mouth _and _nose that were bleeding.

"Dennis' gone soft! Kinda like your cousin, huh, Dudley? Guess Saint Brutus is for loonies!" Mark declared.

Dudley backed off the wall. "Naw, Harry ain't a loony." He flushed then, a bit embarrassed that a crew of little boys had come to his rescue. "Er… thanks lot," he said. "That's some uh… pretty crazy shit you did, Cam. You learn that in martial arts?"

Cam nodded. "Yeah, he'll hurt for days." The boys laughed.

"I probably could've taken them," Dudley put in gruffly, following the boys out into the lane, pinching his nose to stop the blood flow.

"Yeah, but they are crazy and everything. The cops are always following 'em. They pick on everybody," Mark shrugged and then looked up. "I'm glad you're nice now, Dudley."

_'Me too,' _Dudley thought but said nothing. "Hey, how's your sister?"

"Oooh!" came the predictable chorus from the group of boys.

Cam made a face. "Okay, I guess. Annoying as ever."

This was hardly the answer to Dudley's question—he needed more information. It would obviously take harder work to get it from her twelve year old brother. "She on vacation, still? Piers said something about Majorca."

"Yeah she and her bloke went to visit auntie."

"Oh yeah?" asked Dudley, in what he hoped was a very uninterested voice. The other boys _ooh'd _again.

"Yeah. He boring," Cam said easily. "He makes good marks and studies all the time. He's not tough or anything."

"Big surprise," Dudley muttered. "That's cool."

"Do you fancy her?" Cam grinned.

"Naw," Dudley said. "She's okay, though." He gave a roll of his eyes. "Shit, there is _blood everywhere! _How the fuck am I… supposed to…" he trailed off, imagining what Mum would say when he came through the door. And _Harry. _And Dad. Each of them would have very distinct responses, and none would be desirable. "Look… could I go to someone's house? Just to like… look less beat up and whatnot? Or whatever… I don't care but…"

"Yeah!" said Mark. "Come to my house—"

"No, mine," Cam argued. "_I'm _the one who saved you."

Thus began an interesting argument that lasted until they approached Cam's house first. "May as well go in," he said triumphantly. Mark punched him in the shoulder. Dudley sighed.

--

" Dudley, what happened to you?" asked Mrs. Ryan when he and Cam walked through the door.

"Oh, hi Mum—" said Cam. Dudley shot him a look.

However, there was no hiding it now. "I… I'm gonna bleed all over… so…" He tried to hold up his head as best as he could and stayed rooted inside the doorjambs.

Mrs. Ryan, however, didn't seem to care. "Well, what are you waiting for? Come in, you look awful—why are you looking at the tile? A little blood isn't going to hurt it, I can promise you that, just stand there…" She rummaged around in the kitchen drawers and pulled out some dish towels. She began to wet them and threw a look over her shoulder. "Who was it?" she asked.

Dudley and Cam made eye contact.

"Oh, you boys and your honor codes!" Mrs. Ryan said, half-amused, half-annoyed. "Cameron, was it that car-thief?"

Slowly, Cam began to nod.

"Huh? Car thief?" Dudley asked, as Mrs. Ryan handed him a hot, wet towel. He began to wipe his face and she motioned for them to sit at the table. "I'm gonna bleed all over—" he started to say, but she waved her hand.

"We can't prove it, but that bloke—what's his name, honey?"

"Dennis," Cam said quietly.

"Yes, _Dennis_ has been stealing cars at night for joyrides, it's been happening ever since he started going to the alternative school. Ironic, in my opinion." She smiled sadly.

"They're mean," Cam declared. "They push around girls, too!"

"I don't like this neighborhood anymore," Mrs. Ryan said. "Oh, and Dudley, you look fabulous."

Dudley's eyes widened. "Wha'?"

"You're so slim!" she continued. "It's really nice to see you so healthy—"

"God, Mum," Cam sighed, sounding embarrassed, but Dudley shrugged with a slight smile.

"Do you need an ice pack?" she wanted to know.

"Actually…uh could I use your bathroom sink?" Dudley inquired.

"You don't need to ask—just go on down the hall, you know where the loo is."

Dudley thought of Clarice and blanched a bit. "Yeah, I remember." He plodded down the hall, holding the towel to his face. Once in the bathroom, he closed the door, turned on the fan and lowered his head to the porcelain basin. "FUCK!" he muttered, and pounded his head softly on the edge of the sink. He felt defeated; he'd never gotten beat up before, let alone smashed to the ground. It was against the neighborhood rules! No one was supposed to hit Dudley! So much for that.

He ran warm water and splashed his face, the cut on his lip stinging. His nose had stopped trickling blood and now felt raw. Aside from his mouth, the damage was not visible, though he had to wonder if he'd bruise by night. He examined his abdomen, pulling up his shirt to examine where he'd been punched. All ready, a greenish mark was showing over his pale skin. He sighed, frustrated.

Yes, he'd been a bully _and _manipulative when it came to his parents and teachers. He'd treated Sarah like shit and been quite stupid when it came to sex. And yet he'd lacked the fanatical drive that Dennis seemed to apply to trouble-making. Dudley had always been a lazy perpetrator of violence. If the kid ran too fast, fuck it. Smoke some weed and get some fast food. The beatings induced by the Gang as led by Big D consisted of black eyes and bruises—but car theft? And knives in alley ways? That was some sort of other pastime. That was like a new certificate, a graduation.

Momentarily, Dudley thought of Sarah's face. Her jet black hair and willowy curves, her wide lip-glossed smile and shrill voice. He got that twisted mess in the pit of his stomach that was hard to explain—something between being turned on and being disgusted, like witnessing a horrendous event and not being able to look away. _'Come on, Dennis—please, Dennis!' _Dudley wondered if his ex-friend had done the deed that he himself was blamed for two years ago. God, he hoped that girl was okay, but there was no way he was going to find out. And it wasn't like he was exactly innocent in the deeds against Sarah. His fists, her jaw, her hair, his hands.

_'Whatever.' _He changed the hot water to cold and splashing it in his face, hoping to chase those thoughts away. If he could have taken Dennis' knife and cut out what he used to be like, he would have.

--

He walked into Number Four with a dead, set expression. When Mum asked about his lip, he blamed it on boxing practice. Dad approved, and neither asked many questions. Mum made tea. However, it was Harry who caught his eye before bedtime and said three words:

"All right, Dudley?"

Dudley's insides hurt when he saw that little smirk and those glasses and the scar. He couldn't tell if it was a genuine question or a joke. And so this time it was Dudley who narrowed his eyes and looked bitter. "Yeah," he grunted. "All right." Harry gave an equally acidic laugh, shrugged, and walked into his bedroom.

Dudley sighed painfully and leaned against the wall, covering his face with his hands, blocking out invisible threats and beatings. Dudley was determined to be better. But damn, it was all too easy to regress.

* * *


	26. Changes in Wonderland

Author's Note: It's been a LONG time and I apologize. I also must say that this chapter's being looked over but I wanted to post this version anyway. I just want to make sure you guys know I'm still here, because I'm going on a trip soon and have finals and might be away again for a bit (BREAK! TRIP! YES!). Hope you're all doing well, and I urge you to read and review!

_Chapter Twenty- Six: Changes in Wonderland_

* * *

"I've figured it out," Dad whispered, as Dudley was entering the kitchen. It was a few days before Harry's seventeenth birthday, when apparently the protection would leave Number Four and they'd all be doomed. (At least, that's what Harry implied. And being that Harry knew quite a deal more about this stuff than Dad, Dudley was keener on his opinion at the moment.) Today was the day when they were to leave. But from the look on Dad's face, Dudley had a guess that he wasn't going anywhere soon. Mum was staring at Dad blankly. 

"Figured what out?" Dudley asked carelessly, looking around the kitchen and spotting pancakes atop the stove. "Cool!" he exclaimed and Petunia smiled, hurrying up from the table to serve him. It seemed whatever Vernon was about to reveal wasn't of that much interest to her.

Dad cleared his throat, as though to draw back the attention to himself. "It _is _a plot."

"What's a plot?" asked Dudley, sitting down at the table beside him.

"A plot to get the house!"

"Dad…" Dudley said slowly. "Dad… Harry all ready told you the Lord Whatever doesn't need our house—"

"Oh! Don't I know it!?" Vernon said, as though all of a sudden, he was very familiar with the dark wizard and all of his plans. "The Lord Thing doesn't want it, _he _does."

"He who?" Petunia asked, fixing Dudley's plate and carrying it over to him.

"The boy!" Vernon answered.

"Harry?" Dudley asked, and began to eat his pancakes. The sugar-free syrup actually tasted better to him. The lack of butter was another story, but he'd learned to deal with it.

"Yes, Harry! He wants our house, not the others, _him. _He fed us that Lord Thing story to make us think it was all this huge commotion, when really, all he wants is this house!A perfect plan, I must say, very cheeky and well-put together for such an ingrate. I was up all night thinking about it, and I've decided that's the reason. There's no war—"

" Vernon—"

"--absolutely no Lord, and Harry just wants to do his mishmash magic on the deeds to our house so he can get what he's always wanted!" He narrowed his eyes. "Property!"

Dudley nearly choked on his food due to either disbelief or laughter. Or both. _'Property,' _he thought, in that same angry way and almost laughed again. He pounded his chest and tried to look as though he didn't think it was a strange idea in the least.

"Well," Petunia sighed, sitting back down at the table and taking a sip of coffee. "That _could _be true."

"Maybe," Dudley muttered, taking another bite of pancakes. Petunia patted his arm. Dudley looked up at her, and noticed she was hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Of course it's true!" Vernon boomed. "And we're not going anywhere today. I'm telling him that."

Dudley sighed, and got up to put his plate in the sink. They'd spent the whole of yesterday packing all of their suitcases in the car _again. _If they had to unpack everything for what would probably be the millionth time, Dudley felt he might go insane. He didn't know what to think about this, but it would be awfully hard to convince Dad otherwise. Once Dad had a thought in his head like this, it was nearly impossible to get it out. Who knows? Maybe Harry _did _want the house. But Dudley sort of doubted it.

"More pancakes, Dinkydums?" Petunia asked. "We need to build you up for today—"

"Did you just hear me?" Vernon burst out. "We're going nowhere! Nowhere, I say!"

"No thanks, Mum," Dudley said nonchalantly, and opened the china cabinet, fixing a cup of tea.

"Are you sure, sweetie?"

"Nowhere!" Vernon continued.

Making like he was about to drink from the teacup, Dudley swaggered out of the room and up the stairs. Once he'd gotten to Harry's bedroom, he set the cup down in front of the door and got ready for the day. He took a nice, hot shower and shaved. Then he dressed in his baggy khakis, a white collared shirt, his silver chain necklace, and his leather jacket. He shuffled back into the kitchen just in time for round two.

"Not in my life will I see that boy inherit this house!" Vernon was yelling. Petunia had her back to him, at the sink as usual. "Every scrap I've earned has gone into the upkeep, and if anyone's getting it, it's Dudders—"

Dudley made a face, crossing the kitchen. He didn't want this house. If he had to live here all his life, on Privet Drive, he'd only remember the terrible things he'd done—it was an okay looking house, but frankly, it was sort of pink inside and too perfect for Dudley's taste. Plus, why would he want to hang around Little Whinging anymore? "Harry can have it if he wants it so bad," he muttered.

Petunia's shoulders clenched.

"Why, Dudley!" Dad exclaimed. "Don't say that! You've earned this house as much as I have, son! Besides, you'll be with us at least five more years—"

Dudley paused and widened his eyes. "Five more…" he trailed off. He'd never thought about his future in length, but he certainly had expected that by the end of his time at Smeltings, when all of his studies were over, he'd be somewhere _away _from Number Four. Someplace he could be alone. He'd never imagined himself living with mates, or a wife, or kids, but he'd _really _never thought he'd still be with Mum and Dad when he was… He closed his eyes. _'I'm seventeen now…eighteen, nineteen… so, twenty… one? Twenty-two?' _He tried to keep his voice calm. "Why would I…uh… be here, then, Dad?"

"Why, you'll have your internship at Grunnings! They've just been waiting for you to come along. If I can sell such big orders in my age, think of how many you'll make! You're a Dursley! We're going to keep the family involved there, and before they know it, it'll be good as ours! Your sons will work there, and—"

"Grunnings?" Dudley sputtered. _'Drills? He wants me to sell drills like him?' _Why had no one ever told him this? If there was anything in the world Dudley hated, it was the idea of wearing a stupid navy blue suit like his dad, putting on a tie, and going off to sell drills every day. Dudley had always imagined himself doing something cool. Not _quite _fighting crime, but… something awesome. Particularly something that came easy to him. And sales? Sales most likely had to do with numbers. And talking to people. Talking to businessmen? Having meaningful conversations with people he cared something for was only a recent development. But people he didn't care for? Dudley cringed. He hated numbers. He hated talking to people. He couldn't work at Grunnings!

Thank God Vernon was a horrible judge of emotion, because he didn't seem to notice the look of both disgust and fear on Dudley's face. "It's a great commute, Dudders, and soon enough, when you're driving, we can carpool together—there's a great little bakery near work, I've brought buns home every once in a while, maybe you remember—we can go at break, and we can take lunch together—"

Dudley was beginning to feel very stifled. Drills? Living on Privet Drive forever? Did this mean he was going to be married, with ties, and responsibilities, in a boring house? What about leaving Surrey, and proving he wasn't such a prick after all? What about meeting new people who didn't know him back in the day? What about impressing pretty girls? What about more sex? So far, the only good thing about working for Grunnings sounded like the doughnut shop. And even so, he was still on a strict diet, so he wouldn't even get to eat very many doughnuts!

--"And if Harry takes this house, it will ruin everything," Vernon was saying.

"What kind of sandwich do you want, Duddykins?" Petunia asked loudly. "I'm making dinners for the road—"

"The road? I told you we're not going!" Vernon said.

Petunia wrung her hands. " Vernon, please, we're all set—"

"What meat do we got?" Dudley asked.

"We have roast beef, roast turkey, chicken, liver—I could make you a nice fried egg sandwich—"

"We aren't going!" Vernon stated.

"Wait… what were the last three?"

Petunia paused with the fridge open. "Liver, egg, and chicken—"

"No, not those. What else?"

"We're don't _need _dinners for the road!' Vernon announced.

" Turkey, or beef—or perhaps some nice bacon?"

"I think roast beef," Dudley said; before he had a meltdown, he wanted to be sure he picked the right sandwich. "Could I have turkey on that, too?"

"Of course, sweetpea—"

"And do we have cheese?"

"You can check—"

"No!" Vernon shouted. "Don't fall for Harry's tricks!"

Dudley found a block of strong havarti in the refrigerator and passed it to his mother. He'd never had coffee before, but he figured today was a good day to start, and poured himself a large mug from the pot near the microwave.

"Mustard on your sandwich, Dudders?"

"Sure," he shrugged.

"I told you—" Vernon began.

"Mayonaisse?" she asked.

"Why not?" Dudley replied.

"WE ARE NOT—" Vernon went on, the vein pulsing in his neck.

" Vernon, you should calm down," Petunia smiled. "What would you like on your sandwich?"

"DAMN IT! Isn't anyone else worried!?" Vernon bellowed. His face was pink. Soon it would be purple; Dudley knew it.

_'Yeah, but maybe for better reasons,' _Dudley thought grumpily, taking a swig of coffee. There was no way in hell he was going to carpool to work with Dad and spend his life kissing Mr. Mason's ass. Dad seemed to love working at Grunning's, but Dudley certainly did not want that to be his future.

What seemed like hours passed. Vernon kept going on about Dudley's perfect future, which Harry was "obviously" ruining "even at this very moment".

"Where is that boy anyway?" Vernon grumbled. He stalked over to the stairs. "OI! YOU!"

Dudley sighed and set his coffee cup in the sink. Petunia kept wringing her hands, having packed their dinners. "He's just nervous," she whispered. Dudley turned around, thinking she was speaking to him, but she was looking away, so he said nothing.

Vernon paced back to the kitchen, and then yelled for Harry again. Finally, Harry came down the stairway and stood in the doorway.

"You took your time," grumbled Vernon. "Well, SIT!"

Harry looked a little aggravated.

"Please?"

Harry sighed and sat down.

"I've figured it out," Vernon said. _'Oh fuck,' _Dudley thought knowing what was coming, but his thoughts were with his throwaway future selling drills. Unknowingly, he followed Vernon as he began to pace. It seemed the right thing to do. Wringing her hands, Petunia did the same, after Dudley. Dudley knew that Mum was worried for the same reason he was—Dad.

Harry was watching quietly in interest as Vernon presented his case, but his facial expression grew more and more dull all the time. "You want the house."

"The house?" Harry demanded. "What house?"

Dudley stopped pacing and watched with an open mouth, fully engrossed in what Harry would say. As like the old days, there was still a bit of amusement in the Harry Vs. Dad spectacle. Sometimes it was better than telly. And Dudley figured if any episode was going to be dramatic, it would be this one.

"This house!" Vernon yelled, lifting up his hands. "OUR HOUSE!" He yammered again about the price of houses, and the stocks, or some bloody things, as Dudley looked to Harry's ever-raising eyebrows.

"Are you out of your mind?" his slight cousin demanded, the eyebrows at an unbeatable high. "A plot to get this house? Are you actually as stupid as you look?"

Dudley's eyes narrowed. Crazy, yes—but stupid, no. He knew Dad gave Harry a lot of shit, but it hadn't much to do with being stupid. Still, Dudley felt for Harry—everyone shouting at him and going off for what seemed to Dudley like a dumb reason. After all, Harry kept explaining that he was trying to help. He felt himself zoning out as Dad and Harry launched into one of their debates that he and Mum never had the will to jump into. Harry and Dad seemed to have the same technique when it came to these moments—one-upping and shouting. A lot.

"People are disappearing and dying and he's behind it—Voldemort. I've told you this over and over again, he kills Muggles for fun. Even the fogs—they're caused by Dementors, and if you can't remember what they are, ask your son!"

Dudley felt a chill. He'd been sure he'd felt a Dementor last Christmas holiday, but he hadn't been sure. But now, it seemed Harry was saying there were more than just the ones they'd encountered here in Little Whinging. Inadvertently, he raised his hands to his mouth—_'cover your mouth, __Dudley__, cover your mouth'—_but quickly stopped when he saw that all eyes were now upon him. "There are… more of them?"

"More?" laughed Harry. "More than the two that attacked us, you mean?"

_'No,' _thought Dudley,_' more than the ones in this neighborhood!'_ but he didn't feel like getting into that at the moment. He didn't need Dad asking him if he was loopy, he didn't need Mum asking him about walking Clarice home, and he didn't want Harry giving him that You-Are-So-Annoying look.

Blah blah, Harry went on another spiel about doom and despair. Dudley got it—they would die. Or be mutilated like victims in the movies Piers liked so much. But the thing was, Dudley wasn't _going _to be a victim. He was going to do what he had to do to stay safe. He looked at Harry.

Dad kept arguing, but it just seemed so trivial.

"Don't you understand?" Harry declared loudly. "THEY WILL TORTURE AND KILL YOU LIKE THEY DID MY PARENTS!"

That was it. This was done and over. Dudley wasn't going to let this go on any longer. "Dad—Dad, I'm going with these Order people," he said firmly.

Harry looked surprised. " Dudley, for the first time in your life, you're talking sense."

Dudley didn't know whether or not to take this as a compliment. After all, he and Harry were basically strangers now—**how did Harry know if this was the first time he'd made sense**?! Other people seemed to understand what he was saying: Clarice, Mrs. Ryan, Piers (sometimes), Sarah… So why was Harry acting like Dudley had somehow done something out of the ordinary?

It was apparent that the tea hadn't worked on Harry. Or maybe, he just didn't care. Dudley didn't blame him, but it was going to take awhile to _voice _what he'd been feeling. He'd have to tell Harry sorry for sure in the van, before they went into hiding. That was the goal. But Harry didn't have to make it so hard by making smart-assed comments all the time!

"They'll be here in about five minutes," Harry said stuffily, and left before any of them could say a thing.

Vernon took a deep breath. "Little snot," he muttered.

Dudley wanted to argue in favor of Harry, but he stayed silent. What followed was the longest five minutes of his life. At the five minute mark, they all looked at the door expectantly, as though the wizards would burst in right on cue. However, when this did not happen, Vernon made a sort of angry noise in the back of his throat.

"If there's one thing I hate," he said at six minutes after two o'clock," it's late arrivals. Slobs!"

Dudley sighed and drummed his finger on the countertop.

"Honestly, son!" Vernon snapped. "I'm trying to think!"

Petunia patted Dudley's arm and shrugged.

All three of them jumped when the doorbell rang. Vernon looked at Petunia. Petunia looked at Dudley. Dudley felt awkward so he stared at the tea cozy.

" Vernon, the door!" hissed Petunia through clenched teeth. It seemed _her _good mood had dissipated.

Dudley felt like the only normal one. Which in turn made him feel very strange.

"Why should _I _get the door?" Vernon shouted.

Dudley closed his eyes. "Dad…" He wanted to tell him not to yell at Mum for something as stupid as getting the door, but he decided against it. That would only add more drama. "Let me," he said gruffly, feeling a bit angry that these adults were acting so childish. But he heard Harry's footsteps coming down the stairs. _Make Harry do it, _he thought strangely.

Two brightly-cloaked people entered the kitchen, a man and a woman.

As usual, Dudley got a twinge of fear and felt stupid as he wondered if they'd give him a pig tail or poisoned sweets. All this wizard business had completely fucked with his head. He hoped Harry was happy. He stood closer to Mum. The man was wearing a purple top hat.

_Queer, _he thought and then caught himself. Everyone was yammering at each other. Dad was now more flustered than angry. Mum was quiet. Harry looked amused, or _something. _The wizards seemed pretty damn jolly.

"Well, this is goodbye, then, boy," Dad said suddenly, and walked forward, as though to give Harry a handshake.

Dudley was utterly lost. _Why the Hell would Dad say 'bye' now? What a mental case. _

He looked to Mum with questioning eyes. "Ready, Diddy?" she asked. Dudley said nothing for a moment; Harry was _surely _coming! Harry was going to hide with them, they were family, and Harry was going to go into to hiding with them, and Dudley would tell him 'sorry' and he'd tell Harry about Clarice, and Piers too. He wondered what Harry would think about Piers being gay. Probably laugh. Harry hated Piers—he hated Piers worst of any of Dudley's friends because Piers was smart, too, for the most part. Though lately, Dudley didn't think Piers was being so intelligent. He wondered if Harry would be satisfied. He wanted to ask Harry if Harry remembered going to the bus stop, and holding hands. He wanted to tell Harry he never meant to act so disgusting; _gross, _as Clarice would say. He was going to tell Harry about the diet, and about Colin Bard, and Dennis.

Harry was coming with them! He _had _to! It was all planned!

Dudley shot Harry a look of intense worry. Harry merely raised his eyebrows.

"Come along, then," said Dad, obviously nearing the end of his rope. Dad bustled out ahead of Mum and Dudley.

"I don't understand," Dudley shrugged, wondering why they all did this to him! It was as though they all planned things and didn't care to tell _him—_no one had asked _him _if he wanted to leave school, after all! If this had happened ten years ago, Dudley would be screaming and throwing toys by now.

Mum looked up. "What don't you understand, popkin?"

Dudley pointed at Harry. "Why isn't he coming with us?"

"What?" It was either Mum or Dad. Dudley didn't care.

"Why isn't he coming with us?"

"Well… he doesn't want to. You don't want to, do you?" he asked Harry.

"Not in the slightest," Harry said bitterly.

"There you are. Now come _on. _We're off," Vernon declared. He marched out of the room. When no one followed, he came back. "WHAT NOW?"

Dudley was _really _confused now. If Harry wasn't coming with them, then where would he hide? Dudley imagined Harry sleeping under a bridge, hiding from Lord Thing, and for some reason, this made him feel very sad. Harry had saved his life. Harry had also been magic, and if Harry hadn't have been magic, Dudley would have never gotten a Dementoid to show him how much he'd fucked up.

"But where's he going to go?" Dudley asked, knowing he sounded like he always did. Harry was even sending him the You're-So-Annoying look.

"But surely you know where your nephew is going?" the wizard-lady asked, looking around at Dudley and his family. Dudley looked at Mum.

"Certainly we know!" Vernon said. "He's off with some of your lot, isn't he? Right, Dudley, let's get in the car, you heard the man, we're in a hurry."

Dudley didn't care. Someone was going to explain this, and now. And if Harry wasn't coming with them, then… did this mean he'd have to tell Harry _now? _In front of everyone?

"Off with some of _our _lot?" the lady snapped.

Dudley wondered if Dad saying that was like calling Piers a poufter. He was just going to keep his mouth shut. He'd only just started learned what was appropriate to call _gays. _Would it be _wizards _next?

"It's fine," said Harry, acting all adult-like. Dudley had the urge to kick him. Lightly, yes of course, but just enough to make him realize he was in this family, too. "It doesn't matter, honestly."

"Doesn't matter?" the lady asked rudely. "Don't these people realize what you've been through? What danger you are in? The unique position you hold in the hearts of the anti-Voldemort movement?"

_These people? _thought Dudley, and looked to his cousin. What _was _Lord Voldemort? Maybe Harry really _would _die. What—

"Er—no, they don't," said Harry. "They think I'm a waste of space, actually, but I'm used to—"

Dudley felt a wave of some sort of emotion come over him. Before, he hadn't been able to form the words, but he'd heard them so clearly. He'd planned it so wonderfully. But now, he wasn't even thinking, and he blurted something out before he could perfect it:

"I don't think you're a waste of space!"

His own voice had never so sounded strange. Harry seemed to think the same thing. He stared at Dudley with a look of uttermost shock. Dudley, aware that all eyes were on him, went bright red. _Stupid, _he thought. _Mental case, definitely. Bleeding wimp._ He wondered if it was too late to take it back. But he did not _want _to take it back!

"Well…er…thanks, Dudley." Harry also looked bewildered. It was the most emotive set of words they'd ever exchanged. Usually, they were screaming at each other or pretending the other was absent.

Dudley shrugged, feeling like his ears were burning off. He stared at his feet. "You saved my life," he said quietly.

"Not really. It was your soul the dementor would have taken." Harry's voice was also quiet. Dudley hadn't imagined this being so exceedingly uncomfortable. He longed to say more, to act normally, to cuff his cousin on the shoulder and act like they'd been friends forever. Or even just ask him more questions. Tell him to quit taking it all so seriously. But the words had gone away as quickly as they'd come. Dudley was never one for impressive speeches.

However, Mum seemed impressed. She grasped him and burst into tears, cradling him as though he was two years of age. "Such a lovely boy… saying thank you!" she wailed.

_Jesus, _thought Dudley, patting her back, mortified.

"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said the wizard woman, who seemed to get irritated as often as Dad. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"

"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like 'I love you'," said Harry. Dudley rolled his eyes, but his cousin was right.

Dad appeared in the doorway again, looking at them like they were all crazy. "Are we going or not?" Dad did _not _like emotions.

Harry and The People exchanged goodbyes, and then Dudley had an idea. He stepped out of Mum's grasp and stood in front of Harry, holding out his hand.

Harry looked surprised. "Blimey, Dudley, did the dementors blow a different personality into you?"

"Dunno," Dudley said lightly. _I've always had the same personality, _he thought,_ just used all the bad parts. _"See you, Harry."

Finally, Harry took his hand and shook it. Dudley marveled at how small his cousin's hand was. As usual, he used his firm grip but took care not to crush it ( Coach White had forbidden him from shaking his hand by the end of the school year). "Yeah… maybe. Take care, Big D."

Big D. Not _Dudders _or _Duddy_ or _whale. _Big D. Like Dudley's friends addressed him. A sort of mutual understanding of the importance of this change on Harry's part passed between them.

Dudley felt his lips twinge into what was almost a smile, but then he cleared his throat gruffly and turned away, making sure to walk away aggressively as though he'd just made progress on kicking someone's ass. He was satisfied with the way he and Harry had dealt with each other. Not too much talking, and hardly any emotional stuff. That was good. He wanted Harry to know he cared, but he did not want Harry thinking he worshipped him or anything. He crossed the room, past the umbrella rack they'd convinced Petunia they didn't need to bring, and past the wall of portraits. Fake smiles in every single one. God. Did Dad _really _think Dudley wanted to live on Privet Drive forever?

Once outside, he gave a last look back at Number Four and then turned away, slogging across the gravel driveway.

Mum came out of the house seconds later, flipping her feathered blonde hair. She was clutching her handbag and had a hand over her mouth, like she did before she started to cry. But Dudley didn't get it—she'd _all ready _cried. She wasn't very well going to cry again over his apology, was she? He stared at her as she approached him.

"Come along, Mum," he said deeply, but gently.

All of a sudden, she burst anew into sobs, but quiet sobs.

"Oh good Lord," muttered Vernon in a sad sort of way, and then turned back to the wizards. "See? See how much this event has stressed my wife?"

"Don't know if I'd call that stress," remarked the woman sourly. "More like insanity—"

"What?" barked Vernon.

Dudley ignored them and held out his massive, solid arm. Wordlessly, Mum slipped under it and held him tightly. He had no idea what she was on about now, but it was okay.

"Let's get going, friends!" said the man cheerfully, so cheerful that Vernon looked daggers at him as he unlocked the car. They did a last check on their belongings, and, with Mum still crying quietly, they started getting into the van.

A voice from across the driveway broke the awkward silence: "Are you going on holiday?"

The three Dursleys turned abruptly to the right. There stood the famed Mrs. Next-Door and what must have been her grandchild, a small baby-like kid ( Dudley decided). Mrs. Next-Door had never actually made _contact_ like this. There had been the occasional "hello", the "How's little Dudley and that other boy?" that was generally an avoided topic for obvious reasons… but never a direct inquiry about their life. Petunia stiffened considerably. Mrs. Next-Door was her nemesis. Mrs. Next-Door was her idol.

Dudley and Vernon did not speak. This was not their moment.

Sniffing a bit, Petunia held her head up high and nodded. "Yes," she said dramatically and loudly," yes, yes we are. Somewhere _very _exotic—"

The wizards looked bewildered.

Vernon and Dudley nodded smugly at Mrs. Next-Door, playing along. This was almost as exciting as pretending to worship Mr. Mason!

"Lucky!" the woman groaned. "No hols for me this summer. I've got to take care of Nancy here!"

Petunia's mouth was open in amazement. This was more information than she'd ever been able to scrounge together, coming to her in less than a minute.

"Not only does my daughter drop off Nancy on me, but she also expects me to send her money for her chav boyfriend's gambling addiction!"

"Really?" Petunia asked, her eyes lighting up immensely. It must have been like discovering a new religion for her, or something.

"We'd better go," said the wizard, but no one could possibly understand how important this was for Petunia.

"Yes, yes, don't like me keep you," said Mrs. Next-door. "But when you get back, _please _come over for a cuppa. We can talk." She smiled, in that fake way Mum did when she wanted to know something.

Mum smiled back in the same way and gave a little wave of her fingers. Dudley could tell her mood had improved considerably. Vernon waved, too. Dudley nodded. With that exchange, they piled into the family van.

The man in the purple hat was in the middle of Dudley and Petunia, and the woman sat up front with Dad. "I fear we have not properly introduced ourselves!" the man said. "I am Dedalus, and this is Hestia."

Vernon almost swerved into a ditch. "You're _what?" _

"Dedalus. And Hestia!" the man said brightly. He must not have realized he had an incredibly idiotic name. Oh well.

There was a silence.

" Dudley," Dudley offered in a low voice. "This is Mu—uhm, Petunia, and this is Vernon."

"At least someone in this family has a personality," Hestia said darkly. "Turn here."

Vernon did so, gritting his teeth.

Dudley looked out the window. It seemed strange that they were leaving Privet Drive with wizards—and that they had no idea when they'd be back. Dudley scanned the neighborhood, memories flooding his mind with each house, with each yard. When the van passed Number One, Dudley's shoulders grew rigid. Clarice Ryan was standing in the driveway with a tall, lanky bloke. Was _that _him? They were laughing and talking. She did not look up. Dudley wondered if she'd ask where he was. When they passed the turn street for Piers' house, it was almost too much...

"So! Dudley!" said the man, who seemed to be trying very hard to be happy. Dudley jumped and tore his eyes away from the window. "Do you—" he paused. "Rats. I haven't taken a refresher course in Muggle Studies in ages! Do you still have rugby, son?"

_Weird, _Dudley thought. "Yeah, 'course we do."

"DON'T CALL MY SON A MUGGLE!" Vernon shouted, veering off the lane.

Hestia grabbed his arm. "You'll kill us!"

"No, he always drives like that," Dudley said matter-of-factly. "It's okay." He turned to Dedalus. "We have rugby," he affirmed.

"Brilliant!" Dedalus said, as though he'd just gotten Dudley to do a trick. These wizards were strange. "Do you play?"

"No," Dudley said.

Dedalus' entire face seemed to sag with disappointment. "Oh! Er—uhm… Bollucks," he whispered. "Gripping sport, isn't it?" he said weakly.

" Rugby?" asked Dudley.

"Yes! Wouldn't you say?"

"I don't follow it," Dudley answered.

"_You don't follow_—Hestia, what's it mean, _he doesn't follow rugby? _I didn't know you could follow—"

"Honestly," snapped Hestia. "It means he doesn't have an interest in it! And there are _other _things besides rugby, surely you remember _something _else to talk about?"

Dudley and Petunia stared at her.

"I… I don't…" Dedalus struggled.

Hestia sighed and turned around. "So, Dudley, how do you like school?"

"SCHOOL!" burst out Dedalus. "I forgot about that one."

Dudley felt very odd. "It's fine."

"He was made champion boxer! Two years in a row," Vernon said proudly.

"Boxing? That must be a new one. I don't recall it. What's boxing?" Dedalus said in interest.

Vernon almost crashed the car. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT BOXING IS?"

"Goodness, man!" screamed Hestia.

"No, I fear I don't! What do you do?" he questioned Dudley.

Dudley had to think about that. He often bragged about it, but never really thought very hard about what it was _about. _"Well, you've got to hit your opponent. You've got to overcome him, see? Knock him down, then you win. You've got to prove you're the best. There's… uh, there's like, a few styles. I guess I'm a slugger, more of a steady fighter, coach says. Blows from up close. Jabs, punches to the skull." He felt like he had been talking for a long time, so he stopped.

"Ah!" Dedalus said excitedly. "How grand! I don't understand at all!"

"Oh," Dudley replied, staring at the man. "Uh…"

"He'd make a good beater, wouldn't he, Hestia?" Dedalus questioned. He turned back to Dudley. "If you were given the proper equipment, do you believe you could whack a ball out of midair?"

Dudley blinked. "What?"

"Maybe too strapping of a lad for a broom, though. You could patrol the fields. You seem to have a good beater's arm—"

"A _what?" _Dudley asked. Did this bloke say _beater? _

"Don't you know of Quidditch?"

"Huh?"

Petunia looked horrified. "Nothing, Duddy—"

Dedalus smiled, though, and jabbed Dudley in his firm gut with an elbow.

Dudley had no idea what anyone was talking about, so he was silent for the rest of the trip, which was good because everyone else seemed to have run out of words, too. Hestia would tell Vernon to turn right or left every once in a while. Soon, they were on a desolate little highway, passing a forest to their left. Dudley had no idea where they were. This was the point in the movies Piers liked in which someone got killed.

"Go off the road," said Hestia.

"What?" Vernon said sharply.

"Off the road. We're going to those woods."

"Rubbish," Dad declared. "The woods." He gave a false laugh.

"I'm serious. That's where the designated spot is! We'll leave the car there, and someone from the Ministry will pick it up later. We'll apparate—"

"Tomfoolery," Vernon said. "I won't have it."

"Pull over," Hestia said. "This is the spot!"

"Lies!"

" VERNON!"

All eyes went to Petunia. Dad screeched to a halt at the side of the road.

Mum took a deep breath. "Just do what they say," she whispered.

There was an ominous tension for a moment, and then Vernon nodded. "Yes, Pet," he said agreeably, and drove the van into the meadow.

--

It had taken a lot of persuading to make Dad leave the van, but now they were standing in a clearing, staring at what appeared to be a large, old sock.

"So, we have to touch that thing?" Mum asked, wrinkling her nose.

"Sadly, yes. Who was in charge of this portkey?" Hestia wanted to know, regarding the sock with utter dislike.

"Seems like something Bagman would find amusing," Dedalus shrugged.

"I guess that's not the point though," Hestia went on. "Yes, we have to touch it." She bent down, making a face, and picked it up gingerly, holding it out between them. "Grab onto it as tightly as you can, and don't be afraid—"

"Afraid of what?" Dudley muttered, feeling afraid all ready.

"All at once now, one, two, three—"

They all reached out and grabbed a piece of the sock, and with that, it seemed the world was turning. Petunia screamed. Dedalus laughed as though being tickled. Vernon yelled obscenities. And as quickly as it had happened, they all collided with a _bump _on pavement, except for Dedalus and Hestia, who fell neatly to the ground and spent a few moments collecting Dudley and his parents, dusting them off and helping them to their feet.

Vernon was purple, but it seemed he had now taken a vow of silence, for he didn't utter a word. Perhaps he was too furious to do so, which had happened many times before. Petunia wiped off her handbag, and Dudley cracked his back. It seemed they had landed in a simple neighborhood, near a river. A few apartment houses were on either side of the lane. It was unlike any town Dudley had seen in England. He searched the wizards' eyes for answers.

"It's fabricated," Hestia explained, noting Dudley's expression. "The insides of the homes are a lot bigger than they appear, but only if you have the right charm. No one outside of the Ministry and its affiliates know how to get in. Other Muggles live around here, too, but they cannot see us. You'll be safe here."

None of this made an ounce of sense, but the Dursleys followed these two wizards, having to trust them, having no choice. Dad kept breathing very ruggedly, as though he might break into a shouting fit at any given second. _'You'll be safe here,' _repeated Dudley in his head. Everyone kept saying that. He followed Hestia and Dedalus to the closest building, a towering stone flat house with a gold letter V on it.

"Whatchu mean it's _fab-ricated?" _Dudley wanted to know.

Hestia turned around. "There are just some things you have to see to believe, Dudley." With that, she rapped on the front door with her knuckles.

An explosion of noise erupted. Petunia shrieked. Both Dudley and Vernon jumped back. It wasn't until a second later that Dudley realized it was a loud, low, hissing voice.

_"WHO DARE BE THE ONE WHO ENTER HERE? DEATHEATERS, DEMONS, DESPERADOS? YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE- THERE IS NOTHING HERE FOR YOU-" _

Hestia gripped the door handle and muttered a few words.

_"YOU HAVE BETRAYED OUR KIND-" _

"Oh for Merlin's sake, what's the code?" hissed Hestia.

_"CRETINS!" _

Dedalus shrugged.

Hestia glared at him, and then gave another utterance of words that Dudley did not understand. All at ones, the shouting ended as quickly as it had come. The door swung open.

Before Dudley could stop himself, he exclaimed: "What in the _fuck?" _

Petunia went even paler. "Diddy! _Diddy," _she said. "Who taught you—I thought you'd stopped—I— Vernon?"

The wizards looked slightly amused.

Reddening, Dudley waited to be read the riot act from Dad. Honestly, it _would _make sense that he'd get in trouble now that he was better. They hadn't given a damn back at home when he'd been a hooligan, and now, one measly swear word and he was going to get in trouble…

However, it seemed Vernon had not even heard. He was still standing back, staring at the house. Finally, he strode forward. "Brilliant burglar alarm, I must say. I'm never seen one quite like it! Amazing range!"

"Thank you!" Dedalus said happily. "It took me quite a while to design, and as you see, I'd forgotten the password—"

"You made this system?" Vernon demanded, his eyes shining. "_You _made it?"

"Why, yes, it's a spell—"

Vernon's eyes widened. "That was _magic?" _

Dedalus nodded. Petunia gripped her handbag, looking whiter, if that was possible.

"Blimey," said Dad weakly, and then fell silent again. Apparently off the hook, Dudley followed the two wizards into the flat.

Dudley stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. As soon as they walked into the foyer, it doubled in size—they were now standing in a room that looked completely unrelated to the flat they'd seen outside, if that made _any _sense at all. This room was nearly three of the main floor of Number Four, and was filled with people—people like Dedalus and Hestia, in bright cloaks. Some were bustling around, others sitting in huge, leather chairs reading the newspaper.

"Hi there!" exclaimed a dark-skinned woman in a purple cloak, rising from her spot in front of a hearth. All at once, the people in the room turned to face Dudley and his family, all giving smiles and welcoming gestures.

"Harry _Potter's _family!" said a man.

"Pleased to meet you all! I had the opportunity of meeting your nephew once in the Leaky Cauldron, back when he was a first year! Seems _so _long ago!" an older woman declared.

As blank as his parents, Dudley turned to Hestia and Dedalus.

"This is the new Muggle-protection league," explained Hestia. "Sometimes it will be busy in the house, like it is now, and sometimes, there will only be two or three of us around. It depends on the DeathEater count, and where Voldemort is. Although this place is unknown to the dark side, we must take all precautions—"

Vernon nodded weakly, looking like he was in a bad nightmare. Dudley thought the house was sort of cool, though. It was _messy_, first off, and filled with old furniture and paintings that looked like they were pulled out of some weird history movie he'd had to watch in school.

An owl flew by, screeching. Petunia screamed and stepped back.

"I feel the same way," Dedalus said sadly. "After I mistakenly fell asleep in the Owlery once at Hogwarts, I never cared much for the birds."

"Owlery?" Dudley asked, but was cut off by Dad—

"How did our luggage get here all ready?"

Hestia shrugged. "I told you that I put a charm on it."

Dad narrowed his eyes. "That's impossible."

A few of the people in the room paused to listen.

"You can't do _practical _spells!" Vernon went on. "That's not how it works—"

"Of course we do practical spells. What did you think magic was for, stupid things like curling our hair and turning princes into frogs?" Hestia demanded.

Vernon looked be at a loss for words. "Well… I just… er—I never knew that—"

"It isn't his fault. I never really explained any of it," Mum said, her lips pursed. "I wanted my family to be purged of the magic my _sister _had."

"You mean I could have been getting Harry to do my homework with magic all this time?" Dudley asked, half-joking.

However, all of the wizards in the room faced him with solemn expressions.

"Of course not, sonny," said a thin, tall man. "For _that _would be cheating."

Dudley stared. "Magic's still cheating?!"

"Why wouldn't it be? Homework is something that's best done the old-fashioned way."

All the adults nodded and smiled.

Dudley cringed. Wizards weren't _more _cracked than normal adults. But they were _just _as cracked.

-

By evening, Dad had taken another vow of silence and his face was a deep purple shade. Mum wasn't speaking much either, only to Dudley and only in short sentences. Hestia had given up on all of them altogether, but Dedalus had unearthed a muggle magazine and was quizzing Dudley on 'current' events. (Dudley wasn't getting any of the answers right, and wondered if he was even stupider than he'd originally thought until he noticed the magazine had been published in 1976.)

By seven o'clock, most of the other wizards had cleared out, gone on other "missions." Mum, Dad, Dudley, Dedalus and Hestia ate a meal of stew and bread, sitting quietly.

"Petunia, I only met your sister once, but she was just wonderful!" Dedalus said.

Dudley immediately pretended to choke on his food and pounded his chest, but when he had finished this stunt, Mum was still looking narrow-eyed at her plate.

"_Perfect Lily," _Petunia hissed, poking at her roll.

More silence.

Hestia pulled away from the table and grabbed her plate. "Just so _thrilled _to have you here," she barked. "It's going so well." She stalked away.

_Great, _Dudley thought. _They're going to kill us in our sleep. _

"So, how about that Yoko Ono?" asked Dedalus merrily.

--

The bedrooms were simple—high, oak ceilings, white-sheeted beds, nightstands. It was sort of like living in a hotel. Dudley picked the largest room, on the far side of the house. He unpacked his bag that evening, after dodging questions from Dedalus regarding a 1988 issue of _The National Geographic. _He put away his clothes in a chest in the room and hid his porn magazines underneath the mattress, lying back on the thick mattress and gazing at the ceiling. He was living in a weird flathouse, surrounded by wizards, and he wasn't even all too paranoid about it. In fact, he was pretty calm. There was something wrong with that.

Dudley grinned and pulled back the blankets. As long as they stopped mentioned Harry, Mum's sister Lily, and her wizard husband, everything would be fine. But as every wizard who'd spoken to them had mentioned all of the above people at least three times in basic conversation, Dudley felt there was no hope for his mother's comfort level. The more he thought about it, the more he decided he'd been cheated out of an aunt and an uncle. He never thought he'd feel this way but, he realised that if he had to pick, those two sounded _way _more normal than Aunt Marge any day.

Aunt Marge. She'd not been too upset over their "sudden family vacation." In fact, she said she was doing quite well. Some neighbor of hers made nice and they'd been spending their days breeding more dogs and eating whelks and caviar. The thought of that alone made Dudley half-sick.

That first night in hiding, Dudley had a dream about a motorcycle that could fly. It seemed familiar somehow.

--

"Haha!" exclaimed Dedalus, "I'll get your queen, I will!"

Dudley grinned and didn't tell the wizard that this wasn't chess, it was checkers. Mum, being very prepared, had packed some of Dudley's old childhood games, and now, three months into hiding, they were coming in handy. Wizards and witches (as Dudley learned it was appropriate to address the women) seemed fascinated by the muggle board games. _"Fancy that!" _more than one had said. _"They don't move! Isn't that just hilarious?" _

Daily activities consisted of getting up, lifting weights, eating breakfast with Mum, Dad, and whatever people who happened to be present, lifting weights again, hanging out in the lounge, listening to music, dinner, Deatheater Drills, supper, and weights. DeathEater drills were just going over code words, fake names, and hiding spots. Dudley had become a very good liar when it came to his name and information. Even _Dad _had sort-of chortled when Dudley had picked 'Rex' as his fake name. But beyond that, Dad and Mum mostly stayed to themselves. Mum spent her time pouring over baby albums and being weirdly depressed, and Dad hardly spoke to anyone.

Dudley didn't speak much either, but at least he _listened _to people. He'd met a fair few of people who said they were friends of Harry's. There was a woman named Minerva Mcgonagal, who'd given him a tight handshake and said she hoped he was a better student than his cousin. Dudley had responded with "I really don't think so," which had made the dark-haired woman crack into a smile. She'd only dropped in for awhile, to deliver "Hogwarts information." Also, someone named Bill had said Harry was best friends with his little brother, and admired Dudley's weight set (Petunia seemed very disgruntled that Bill had long hair and an earring, but Dudley thought he was pretty decent.). Several people had regarded Dudley as a monster when he'd been introduced as Harry's cousin, but they soon got over it.

These people were all right, most definitely.

* * *


	27. The Mad, Mad Hatter

Author's Note: This took a LONG time. I apologize again. My new quarter has been a lot harder but more fun. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well. Thanks for all your reviews and adds.

Warning: Some spoilers for _DH_. Also, some details are probably not right but it's Dudley's mind so that's my excuse. Also, I need to re-read that book because honestly, all I remember is camping, the Dursleys, Ron being angry and possibly a very sappy ending.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty- Seven: The Mad, Mad Hatter _

"Gringoats was broken into?" Dudley asked, sprawled out on one of the couches in the main room.

Hestia gave a light smile. "_Grin-gotts," _she pronounced, "and yes."

"It's a bank, yeah?"

"Yes, and we're thinking that although the circumstances were strange, it was definitely from our side. We're still unsure about _why_."

"People are always breaking into banks, not just wizards. I couldn't do it," Dudley declared, sitting up, pumping a weight in his left hand.

" Dudley, you have little faith in yourself, but I guess it's healthy that you don't want to—"

"Eh, I'm just not smart enough. Plus, they'd know who I was in a second. My mates and I used to plan doing shit like that. Knocking over a store and all that, stealing things. The most we ever took was cigarettes, though." He paused, remembering the whiskey and condoms. "And some other stuff."

Hestia didn't ask what the _other stuff _was. She was good at that. "Oh, you're smart _enough,_" she said.

He shrugged. "What other news is there?"

"Olivia Foot died. She was only nineteen, just graduated from Hogwarts. A Slytherin, even. They show no mercy." Hestia lowered the paper.

"Hello," said a cold voice.

Dudley looked up. There was Mum, smiling curtly and staring at Hestia with a searing gaze. "Hey Mum."

Petunia reached over the couch and put a hand on her son's head. "I hope you aren't filling Dudley's head with more gore and hideousness."

"Mum—"

"No, actually, we were just discussing the news."

Petunia cleared her throat. "That's what I was _referring _to. Disgust. War. Filth. He doesn't need to hear it—"

"Mum, I'm seventeen—"

"Everyone should be up on the news," Hestia said. "It's the only way—"

"It isn't _my_ way," Petunia sniffed. With that, she walked away.

As soon as she'd gone, Hestia turned back to Dudley. "I hope you know you're never going to grow up, at least while she's around… Dudders."

"Oh shut, it," Dudley grinned.

"All right, who's the reason for this war? The worst wizard?" quizzed Hestia.

Dudley rolled his eyes. "Easy one. You-Know-Who, of course. Duh."

"Who's his number one?"

"Pete…?"

"Peter," snapped Hestia. "Peter Pettigrew. That worm. Whose father was You-Know-Who's source of weaponry and personal effects?"

Dudley snorted. "Trick question! _Who?" _

"Draco. Draco Malfoy is Lucius Malfoy's son. Lucius—"

--"Is a rich fucking prick. I remember."

Hestia shook her head. "I'd never think of describing him that way, but I think it suits him."

"Mum—" Dudley began, knocking on his parents' bedroom door, brandishing a teacup. Dedalus had suggested he bring his mother something to drink. She'd been behaving strangely lately, all over-protective… which actually shouldn't have been so weird, but it was as though she'd reverted. For awhile, she'd been doing better, actually listening to conversations about Harry and the war without flipping out. But now, she was back to her old ways. Dad was even reading _The Daily Prophet ! _(And complaining about political matters in the wizarding world, nonetheless!) It was sad when Dad was more low-key than Mum.

There was no answer. Surely she'd talk to _Dudley _if no one else!

He rapped on the door harder. "Oy. Mum, it's me."

Still no answer. Dudley tried the door handle and to his surprise, the door swung open. His parents' room here was even cleaner than at home. The walls were bone-white and the room was bare. However, there were a few items that seemed out of place.

Sitting atop one of the wooden dressers was a cardboard box. A few books sat beside it. Curious, Dudley moved toward it. They were photo albums. His face burned with humiliation all ready at the thought of seeing horrifically saccharine baby photos of himself, but still, he set the cup down on the nightstand and picked up the photo album, which had a large letter 'L' on it.

But instead of his pink cheeks and cheesy smiles, he was looking at black and white photographs of two little girls. He recognized them immediately from the home video he'd seen last summer- Mum and Aunt Lily. Interested, he kept looking. The small photo album was basically falling apart. The little girls seemed pretty tight with each other in most of the photos, though it seemed like most of them were of Lily. The girls had Christmas photos, pictures of them in swimsuits at the park, and quite a few birthday party pictures. Dudley sniggered aloud at the sight of Mum with cake all over her face. It was like she was a totally different person. There were a fair few of Lily with a scowling kid who seemed to only favor black. His white face and long dark hair framing his face made him look like he was always in a Halloween costume. In fact, there were a few Halloween pictures—Petunia as a girl scout, Lily as a fairy, and the random frowning kid in what looked like an old sheet.

Dudley kept flipping through. As the years progressed, Lily got sort of gorgeous, with long hair and a huge smile. Petunia, on the other hand, looked sourer and sourer, and always seemed to have some sort of strange haircut or frilly outfit going on. When the high school-era photos showed up, Petunia was posing with pompoms and looking mature for her age. Lily was in hippie-clothes with her arm around the same frowning bloke, who looked and dressed about the same, except for the fact that he was loads taller. Then suddenly, the weird kid wasn't in the album anymore. Lily was partying with other friends while Petunia stood in the background, looking upset. Lily was clearly cool. Mum looked like a rule-follower. Even in dance pictures with Dad (who had much less of a mustache but still looked less than thrilled to be having his photo taken), she looked posed and stiff. It was as though she couldn't ever just have fun. Dudley reached the end of the album, and a folded sheet of paper drifted to the floor.

He stopped to pick it up. It was covered in tiny, black scrawl. Unable to stop himself, Dudley unfolded the piece of paper and read it—

_'IT TOOK US NEARLY TWO YEARS TO CONCIEVE. I JUST ANNOUNCED THE HAPPY NEWS TO MUM AND FATHER AND LILY HAD THE NERVE TO GET PREGNANT JUST ONE MONTH AFTER ME. SHE'S ALWAYS COPYING ME. I HATE HER. SHE'S ALWAYS SO PERFECT. HOW CAN MUM EVEN **LIKE **THAT JAMES? HE'S A FOUL-MOUTH WHO FORCED OUR LILY INTO PRE-MARITAL SEX. I SWORE I WOULDN'T SAY A THING BUT NOW I'D LIKE TO, JUST TO GET EVEN. I HOPE HER HALF-MAGIC FREAK OF A SON ENDS UP A DRUG-DEALER AND THEN WOULDN'T MUM AND DAD BE PROUD? I DON'T WANT TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH JAMES AND IF LILY'S FOOLISH ENOUGH TO STAY WITH SUCH AN IDIOT, THEN IT SERVES HER RIGHT! MUM HAD BETTER NOT THROW US A JOINT-BABY SHOWER. I'LL SCREAM. I REALLY WILL!' _

Dudley re-read the paper quite a few times before he looked up, terror written on his face. He'd never heard of Mum explaining her emotions like this. Which figured, he supposed, since it was a most likely a private entry no one was supposed to see. Did Mum really think Lily had gotten pregnant to copy her? Could someone do that? After all, Dudley wasn't an expert on the subject. And Harry! A drug-dealer. Yeah, right. Harry before fifth year smoking a joint… that was probably the extent of Harry's knowledge of drugs. Dudley, on the other hand, used to smoke weed at least three days a week and had friends who cut up cold medicine and sold it to primary school kids to snort. He had a sinking feeling that it wasn't Harry who the grandparents would despise.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Dudley's hands felt cold and clammy but he could do nothing but stand there. He was going to be in deep crap for this. Mum was the most private person in the history of the world. _Shit, _he thought.

"Oh dear, wrong room!" twittered a girl's voice.

Dudley sighed greatly before setting the photo album and note down and turning around. A short girl with dirty blonde hair stood in the doorway. She looked rather disheveled and was wearing a long green skirt, a pink sweater, and huge orange earrings. "Oh—" he uttered, in response to the awe-inspiring effect of all the psychedelic colors.

She smiled brightly. "Dudley Dursley!" she exclaimed. "We met once! In the station! Improperly, of course, that's the way with Harry, he just knows so many people that he can't bother to introduce no-name acquaintances like me!"

"Oh!" Dudley grunted again. Between the clothes and this girl's comments about herself, he really wasn't sure what to say. She didn't seem too concerned about being a no-name, though, which was the weirdest part. She was just smiling, as happy as can be. _'We met once'…? _he repeated. _Oh! Raddish earrings! _"Yeah. I think I remember you."

"I'm Luna Lovegood!" she exclaimed. "And it's so nice to see a familiar face." With that, she ran toward him at full speed and basically dove at him, wrapping her arms around his back and pressing her head into his shirt. It was at this point that Dudley felt that she was shaking badly. It was also at this point that he noticed she was using his front as a handkerchief.

"Sorry but, ah…" Dudley struggled to ask her what the bleeding fuck she was doing without sounding abrupt or rude.

"I'm back now. That's what matters. And soon I'll be back to Hogwarts—" Luna said quietly and wiped her face off on his chest.

Dudley nodded, wincing at the feeling of his damp shirt. "That's uh… great. And where were you?" He felt like he was definitely missing something.

Luna pulled away and Dudley noticed that someone had roughed her up. She had a black eye and a bruised cheek. "_They _had me," she said mysteriously. "I wasn't expecting it. I'm fairly certain that wood faeries let them know my whereabouts at the time. You can't trust wood faeries with your secrets. That's the key lesson."

"Oh," said Dudley again. There was obviously some sort of wizard-muggle language barrier happening here. "Well. You're back," he said lamely, but Luna looked pleased.

"Yes, Dudley Dursley, I am back. Now come with me to find my room? I'll only be staying here a few nights before someone's sent to help me get back to Hogwarts." With that, she linked arms with Dudley and led him out into the hall.

Dudley tried to act like all this physical contact wasn't making his head feel funny. Luna was treating him as though they were best chums and always had been. "Uhm… sure… Wait—who hit you?" he asked.

Luna stopped in her tracks. "It wasn't only one person," she muttered. "But I don't want to bore you with the details. You're Harry's cousin. I must sound like I'm complaining compared to what Harry's been through!"

"Uh—not really," Dudley snorted. "I guess I don't fully _know _what Harry's been through. Anyway, you're not complaining or…whatever."

Luna looked up at him and smiled, squeezing his arm. "Well, then. Thank you, Dudley. Ah! This must be it, I think!"

_Really? _thought Dudley a bit sarcastically, because someone had pinned a huge cloth over the door that read WELCOME LUNA! "Well… okay," he said slowly, while Luna walked into her room and fingered the bedspread on the twin cot.

She shot him a strange look. "You don't have to linger in the doorways. As a matter of fact, you shouldn't. That's what the studded shortblat does before it gobbles up its prey."

"What!?" Dudley questioned, but stepped inside the room. Even for a wizard, she was pretty confusing.

Suddenly, Luna was staring intently at a large old dresser that was in the room. "Big, isn't it?" she questioned.

Dudley raised an eyebrow. "Not… really." It was true—while Luna stood somewhere around Clarice's height (taller than Sarah but still only five foot four or so), Dudley had had measured himself as six foot five just a few months ago.

"That's so _amazing!" _Luna said, delighted, clapping her hands. Dudley wondered if she was being facetious, but she sure didn't seem like it. "Could you please tell me what's on top of it?"

Dudley stared at her. "Huh?"

"The cabinet. I've always wanted to know what's on top of really tall objects. I can tell, you see. It's unfortunate."

"Oh—er—" Dudley raised his eyebrows. So she _was _being serious.

Luna's face fell at his expression. "Odd, aren't I? Kids at school think so, too. It's all right, Dudley—"

Dudley _really _didn't know what to do now. She made a sort of uneasiness settle in his stomach. "No—it's okay, I'll—" He strode over the cabinet and peered over the top of it, standing on tiptoe. Luna watched with a huge interest, and walked behind him, placing her hand on his shoulder. This only made Dudley feel stranger. "Uhm, just dust is up there. That's all."

"Oh," she said quietly. "I'm very disappointed."

_"Well, what's this?" _asked Mum shrilly, stepping into the room. It was then that Dudley realised Luna's hand was still on his back. He whipped around.

"Hi, Mum."

"Who are YOU?" Mum demanded of Luna, who was all ready losing points, Dudley was sure of it, for her unruly hair and strange manner of dress.

But another voice sounded: "Thank goodness you're safe!" Hestia bounded in the room, apparently from behind Mum and wrapped Luna in her arms.

Over their heads, Mum gave Dudley a questioning look. He shrugged, not knowing what else to do. The words from her papers flooded back to him—her blind hatred of Lily for having Harry around the same time. "What's all this about?" Petunia asked sharply. It was the first time she'd seen a girl touching him, and although Luna was being harmless, it was apparent that Petunia wasn't all too thrilled.

"It's not about anything, Mum. She's Harry's friend. Her name is Luna."

"Luna?" snapped Mum. _"Luna?" _

And all of a sudden, it was all just too much.

"STOP IT!" Dudley shouted. "There's nothing wrong with them!"

Everyone in the room stared at him blankly. He hadn't yelled at Mum at ages, and never for a reason like this.

"Oh dear. They've gotten inside his head!" said Luna sadly, but no one really paid her any mind.

Petunia turned around slowly. "Wh-what?" she asked, as though he'd just slapped her across the face.

"She hasn't done _anything wrong, _Mum! Look! She's hurt!" Dudley pointed at Luna's face. "She's hurt and all you do is act like she did something wrong. Well… well—" he could feel the words leaving his mind as quickly as they had came—"well, she's hurt. Those people Harry's up against hurt her and she just wanted me to tell her what was on that dresser. But there isn't anything."

It was rather awkward for a few moments, what with everyone gaping at Dudley as usual. He was afraid Mum might start crying or something. But she did not. Instead, she drew in her breath as though she was counting to ten.

"Who are you?" she finally asked. "Where does all of this _come _from? Why am I suddenly the bad person in the situation, when this _woman—" _she said, indicating Hestia—" feeds you violence and you never talk to me about your problems and you never want to speak to your father and I—I am your _mother!" _

"And I'm your son. But I _am_ more than just that, Mum—I do things you don't know but it doesn't mean you should worry--"

"I thought we were going to be best friends!"

"Well, no one's friends with their parents, Mum, for God's sake, only idiots."

Petunia bristled.

Dudley sighed. "Mum, not everything's all like… perfect or whatever." _Nicely said, asshole, _he told himself.

But for some reason, his mother nodded. "Okay," she said. "All right. Well then."

Dudley waited for the world to explode, but it didn't. Instead, Petunia shrugged and walked out of the room.

Hestia stared at him and raised her eyebrows. Dudley made a horrified face.

Luna cleared her throat. " Dudley, do you know how to make toad in a hole?"

"Do I _what?" _Dudley declared, completely caught off guard.

"Well, you make this toast, and then you cut a hole and drop an egg into the middle and fry it all at once but I can never make it right—"

"Oh. I thought you meant like… an actual toad," Dudley said with relief.

Hestia glared jokingly. "Someone's biased."

The three of them bantered playfully all the way down to the kitchen.

--

"Why's your mum so sad?" asked Luna as she and Dudley stood in a clearing in the woods beyond the flathouse.

Dudley fingered the bark on the tree he was leaning against. Two days later, he was still trying to figure out whether he found Luna attractive or not. She was weird and sort of disturbing but damn, she could be cute as hell. Still, he didn't feel as desperate about her as he had felt with Sarah and even Clarice. He felt comfortable around her—not like every second being some raging hard-on. He knew she was someone he'd have made fun of in school, if only because she was so very unique. In this way she was a bit like Clarice. Dudley enjoyed her company, but he was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him, not really wanting to bonk her. Hestia had made Luna's hair platinum blonde instead of the darker blonde it had been, and her eyes bright green. Her bruises were gone, and she'd been dressing in muggle street clothes. At first, it was like meeting another person, but despite looking different, she was still precisely the same. "Who says she's sad?" he grunted.

"Oh, she's sad. I see it in her eyes. I see it in the way she looks away from everything."

"Shit. You're deep."

Luna threw back her head and laughed. "Be serious. Me? Deep? I'm insane!"

"Yeah, well, you sound smart, anyway. Like some religious person on telly."

"Thank you, Dudley! But I mean it! Your mum—she's… lost."

He stared off into space for a few minutes and shrugged his massive shoulders. "She's really protective of what's hers. 'Cause she loses things a lot, maybe." He didn't really know if that was it, but it felt right to him. Between him, and her sister, and fights and family portraits, Mum really did a job of losing things.

Luna sighed unhappily. "I hate to lose things. I feel sorry for her. I know what it's like to lose a lot."

"Yeah," said Dudley, a bit uncomfortably. "Don't feel too bad about it though."

"Oh, I don't feel _bad. _I just feel for her."

"Well…" Dudley shrugged again. "…Don't?"

Luna grinned. "No matter how much you fight me, I will never stop emoting."

"Whatever that means, go ahead—"

A third voice interrupted Dudley's response: "Well, well, well. What have we here? A little tea party, perhaps?"

Dudley turned to his left, in the direction of the voice. A tall, thin man with dark hair and high cheekbones was staring at them wide-eyed. He was clothed in a long, black cloak and had very pale skin. He was obviously a wizard, but was completely formal, as though in a set costume or dressing for a code.

Before he was thinking clearly, Dudley blurted out: "Why the fuck are you dressed like that?"

The man blinked and stared. This was clearly not the response he was prepared for. "Young man," he said, in that same, oily way," young man, what business do you have in these woods?"

"I'm uh… I was uh… taking a walk." _Who is this clown? _Dudley wondered.

"A walk? And who's she?" snapped the man, taking a step closer.

Luna moved closer to Dudley, who could hear all kinds of words forming in his mind. _She's my girlfriend. She's my bird. She's my fiancé. _

She linked her arm in Dudley's. "He's my big brother!" she exclaimed. "And when I say big, I mean big!"

_Brother? _thought Dudley.

"Brother?" said the man. "What are your names?"

"Rex," Dudley said instantly.

"Hattie," said Luna. "Rex and Hattie Coupe."

"Who are you?" snapped Dudley in a tone he hoped was rude.

Luna squeezed his arm.

"John. John Mike Red," said the bloke, as though they couldn't tell _that _was a fake name. "Nice to see some kids out for a walk instead of at home playing those... uh... _video games_." Dudley snorted. The man's eyes focused lower, on Dudley's chest and Luna's feet. "Nice… sneakers," he said. "Say, uh, you kids ever hear someone by the name of Vernon Dudley?"

"HUH?" snapped Dudley. _What in the hell? _

"What about Dudley Vernon?"

Luna smiled. "Those are nice names. Right, Rex?" She squeezed his arm harder.

"What? Oh… I mean… yeah. Sure." Dudley glared at the asshole. "Look. I've got to take her home. She has to…" He stopped. _What does she have to do? _"She has to go shopping. She needs a new Burberry cap."

"I love those Burberry caps," said Luna with a smile.

"Well, all right then. You kids have a safe walk home." The man winked, and then walked off in the opposite direction. As soon as he was a good distance away, Dudley gave a low laugh.

"Wow! What a dick!"

"Shh," Luna warned. "Let's go."

With that, they hurried off to the flathouse.

"Well, _what? _Was he one of those people? He sure did a shitty job—"

"I think your muggleness confused him, frankly!" Luna said, laughing, but she was breathing hard. "I've got to warn Hestia and Dedalus that they at least have an idea we're here—no way they'd get in, but still… that's not good."

"You think of me as your brother?" Dudley asked.

"What?"

"Your brother! You think of me as a brother?"

"Well, sure!" Luna smiled, "though you got all the strength in the family." She laughed to herself. "Anyway, what's a Burberry cap?"

Dudley sighed. He was slightly relieved but just a bit miffed.

--

There was really nothing to do but keep going over the safety regulations. If they moved, they'd surely be spotted. Everyone was instructed to keep inside, which would have been okay if it weren't for Mum and Dad, who kept questioning everyone loudly, and yelling that Dudley had "almost died!". Dudley didn't want to shout at Mum again or make any life-changing proclamations, because she was all ready acting weird around him. It seemed she was trying to be quiet around the wizards now, but not really making any attitude improvements. Luna had been brought back to Hogwarts, which was too bad, because she was pretty cool. Dudley had thought all Harry's friends would have been defiant and obvious like him, but he was wrong.

It was about a month later when something no one had been expecting occurred.

Around midnight, Dudley was usually awake, while the rest of the house was either asleep or keeping quietly to themselves. It always took Dudley awhile to settle down at night these past months. He'd listen to music on his headphones (though he was getting a bit tired of the same old albums) and do cool-down exercises like one armed push-ups on his bedroom floor. But on this particular night while he was practicing jabs and upper-cuts, he heard an enormous _crash _that sounded as though it was coming from downstairs. He raised his eyebrow, wiping his brow off with a towel and opened his bedroom door. The hallway was dark and full of shadows. But Dudley wasn't about to just ignore the noise. He continued out of his room and through the hall, heading to the staircase. Mum and Dad were standing at the foot of the stairs all ready.

"Hey, what's all that?" Dudley muttered. Mum pointed downstairs.

The main door was open, sending cold air throughout the house. Lying on the floor was an individual wearing a brown cloak. The cloak was covering the person's head, so it was impossible to see who it was.

"Oi!" screamed Dedalus, running into the entrance way, Hesita at his heels. Dudley hurried down the staircase.

"Dudders!" called Dad, but Dudley wasn't about to stop.

"In the name of the Ministry, we command you to show your face!" panted Hestia. "Show your face or prepare to—"

From underneath the cloak came a bitter, deep voice: "Oh for Merlin's sake, it's all right."

"Kinglsey?" shouted Hestia, rushing to the man's side.

"Yes, yes, yes, it's me," he replied, raising his head off the floor. Dudley could see from where he was standing that he was covered in bruises like he'd just lost a boxing match. Finally, Mum and Dad walked slowly down the staircase while Dedalus quickly shut the front door. "Sorry to give you all a fright—I just wanted to… Well, they'd been working day and night to secure this area, and no activity was reported, you're all safe, so don't worry—but there's been a tremendous uprising, many are dead—I can't say who or how many but… We've won…"

"Oh my," Dedalus squeaked. "But—"

"I've been attempting to make the rounds but his followers are still defending themselves, even though he's been defeated—"

"He's GONE?" cried Hestia.

"Finally," muttered Kingsley. "And a great many fell—"

Dad and Mum looked horrified, as though watching a movie they did not understand.

"Well, let me make you something to eat, my dear man," said Dedalus, scurrying away excitedly.

"Lupin," breathed Kingsley, getting up from the floor. "One of Arthur Weasley's boys… Severus Snape, who was, as I knew, always on our side—"

"Oh…" Hestia said softly, shaking her head. "Well, come on inside, at least for a moment and sit—"

But Kingsley was still talking. To Dudley, he seemed like he'd make a very good candidate for prime minister. He seemed to conduct himself as though he were on a show or being quoted in a newspaper.

"All that matters," he began, looking at Vernon, Dudley and Petunia," is that you three and other innocents like you, were kept safe. I just wish I could have protected everyone—"

"You were out there protecting us," muttered Vernon, who also seemed to think Kingsley would be good on telly from the look in his eyes. "You were—" he shook his head and strode forward. "I am honored, I say, to be under your protection." And with that, he stuck out his hand.

Kingsley took one look at it and instead engulfed Dad in what looked to be a crushing hug. "You are very welcome, dear sir!" When the two big men broke apart, Vernon's hair was quite a mess and he looked severely awed and frightened. Dudley wasn't sure he'd ever gotten a hug from man before.

"Thank you," said Petunia very quietly, as though she was afraid someone would hear her. Kingsley hugged her, too, though not quiet as dangerously.

"Yeah, thanks," Dudley said," of course." The wizard offered another bone-crushing hug. When he'd left the room with Hestia, Vernon looked appalled.

"Did he have an earring?" he wanted to know.

* * *


	28. Jabberwock

AN: I got accepted into the college I wanted to go to! Now I just have to get through my next two months at community college, which has become very monotonous, to use a word Dudley wouldn't say. Weird- I feel like I need to keep the POV even in the author's notes, innit!? ANYWAY, it's a bit early as I'm writing this (obviously) but I wanted to let you folks in on something—coming up on April 15 (which is the day taxes are due over here, ugh), this story will be one year old. And my goal is to have it completed by that day. For me, that is unheard of and insane. I NEVER finish stuff, at least _in a year. _Dang. But it's my goal. 

Thanks to Jay, who helps me greatly with cultural issues, Surrey-isms and other matters. I've been trying to post as soon as I finish, and by and by, I'll go in and correct.

Thanks to all of you, and to those of you scoundrels who review anonymously so I can't reply- _I know your ways! _

--

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Jabberwock

--

It was a little bit crazy, sitting around the dining room table, having tea and eggs with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who looked like he had just popped out of a war movie. Dudley couldn't stop staring at all of the man's bruises, and Vernon couldn't stop staring at the man's earring. Petunia's eyes focused on her teacup.

"_Remus _Lupin? _Really? _And Tonks?" Hestia was repeating, tears in her eyes. "They were just married…"

Kingsley nodded with a solemn look of tragedy on his face. "And of course, Molly is heartbroken—"

"_Fred," _Hestia said. "And I never got to tell Severus thank-you. We hated each other in school— well… _I _hated him, he was only a second year and I bought into all the rumors… and--" she began to cry softly.

Dedalus kept adding sugar to his tea and shaking his head. "All those poor young kids."

"Of course, we can't forget the good," Kingsley said, making Dudley think again that he should have himself a television show or own a small country or something. "Harry fulfilled his destiny, and now we don't have… _Voldemort _to contend with. Along with all of his followers—it's just such a relief."

"How is Harry?" asked Hestia.

"As fine as he can be at this point," Kingsley sighed. "He's obviously saddened by the casualties."

Dudley shuffled uncomfortably in his seat. "Where is he now?" he asked.

"Oh popkin," said Petunia sadly, but everyone ignored her.

Kinglsey smiled. "He's all right—staying with friends—"

"That poor boy," Dedalus said.

Dad and Mum looked at each other.

"It really was serious then, wasn't it?" Vernon asked.

Dudley was glad when no one laughed. Kinglsey turned slowly toward Dad and sighed heavily.

"Yes," he said,"it was very serious."

"I just never understood," Vernon said simply.

The feeling in the air changed noticeably. Dudley felt a great discomfort, sort of like how he'd felt when Luna was talking to him—like there was a language barrier.

"I didn't… either," Dudley voiced quietly, looking down at the table. "I mean. Whatever. Harry was just my stupid, weird cousin. I wasn't supposed to like him—"

"Oh honey," said Petunia, her eyes fearful. She drew herself back from the table as though expecting the teapot in the middle to explode.

"No, Mum, it's true—how old was I when Harry moved in? Two?"

"Well, I—"

"It was something like that," Dudley said gruffly," and no one liked him, so you know, I didn't either, but there were other things, too. The food? Keeping food away from Harry and giving it to me?"

The wizards had gone silent, like they were watching a drama on telly.

Petunia shook her head. "I… don't know what you mean. Vernon?"

Dad said nothing, but he was turning red.

"Of course you know what I mean!" Dudley declared, but he still sounded relatively calm. "You didn't like your sister, so you didn't like Harry and you made me into… like… a monster."

"You're not a monster—"

"Mum, I've been like… I dunno," Dudley finished, shaking his head. It was almost too much: Harry, the war, the war at _home. _"Pretty bad, and no one ever notices, because… I don't know. I'm not feeling so bad anymore, because I changed it myself, but you have to know that the past couple of years have been pretty fucking horrible—"

"_You're not a monster!" _Petunia insisted.

"Mum—_listen! _It wasn't just Harry you were hurting when you done like that. All 'cause you hated your sister—"

Petunia sighed heavily. "I didn't hate Lily. I loved her _so _much." Her shoulders began to shake and Vernon took her hand. "And I never _hated_ Harry—"

"The boy was just a menace!" Vernon added, but with no malice in his tone—just anxiety. "I never wanted him to make trouble—"

Dudley sighed. No matter what they said, it wouldn't the past. What happened at Number Four Privet Drive would always be the same. Tired and a bit angry, he headed up to his room to lift weights. He ended up staying awake all through the night. He lost count at one hundred and eighty one armed push-ups.

--

Two weeks later, Dudley and his parents were driving back to Privet Drive with Hestia and Dedalus. Everything in the last few days had seemed like a blur. All of the wizard community was so emotional, and Dudley just didn't know how he felt about it. He'd only just learned _what _Lord Voldemort was, afterall. It was hard to sympathize with something that sounded like it was out of a computer game. He'd never met the people who died, either, but he tried to be as comforting as he could, which mostly involved much smaller people hugging his waist. A bit awkward, but still, people seemed to like the fact that he seemed like he was protective, even if he didn't know what they'd been through.

As usual, Mum and Dad practically said nothing to anyone, but they did make appearances every once in a while. Hestia had accepted Mum's outburst about Lily as a semi-apology, and they'd been on pleasant terms for the remainder of the hiding. Hestia and Dedalus had to accompany the Dursleys back to make certain that their family van and home were free of enemy curses. Even _if _no one was home, it might have been possible that Death Eaters had done something that could possibly harm them.

The car made all the usual turns through Surrey, past the department stores and the fields, but when they drove past the park, Dudley felt his chest tighten, like a severe pain from lifting weights too long, like he used to get at Smeltings before boxing meets. What was kind of weird though was that nothing came rushing back to him, so to speak. He wondered what people had been up to, but he wasn't seeing clear pictures in his mind of anyone, really. Just a distorted slideshow of Sarah, Clarice, Piers and the old gang, but he could hardly grasp how they looked, really. Too much had changed. They continued on the main drive, and Dudley sighed when he saw the turn-off for Piers' house. Then he felt even weirder when they passed the Ryan house, and there was a For-Sale sign. He was too tired to wonder where Clarice might have moved to.

"You'll be able to see your little friends again," said Petunia, which made Dudley feel even stranger, as though she could see his thoughts.

"A bit old for that, eh, Mum?" he asked, his throat dry.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't think so," she said, patting him on the shoulder.

Vernon turned onto Privet Drive. "Well, the so-and-sos in Number Five finally decided it was high time to trim their grass!" he declared.

Dudley sighed. He was sort of hoping for everything to be drastically different, like the movie of his life but that apparently wasn't in the cards.

"Here we are," Vernon announced. "Same old place. And there's the automobile, too!"

_How exciting, _thought Dudley a bit grimly. They piled out of the ministry car, and all ready, Dudley saw neighbors looking through their windows across the street. Lawnmowers mysteriously quieted down as their owners peered at Number Four in interest. Obviously, not too many important things happened on Privet Drive.

"Well, that seems in good condition!" Dedalus said of the van in his merry way.

"If they harmed me car, I might have to give them the old one-two meself," Vernon remarked.

Dedalus got great enjoyment out of that, and headed up the porch steps.

Hestia piled some luggage into Dudley's arms. "I was glad to know you, Dud," she said with a wry smile. "Try to keep a sense of humor, all right? I think it will help you out a lot."

Dudley shrugged but smiled back at her. "Yeah, thanks," he said," It was cool to—"

But whatever he was about to say was lost in what sounded like a roaring explosion. Dudley turned around quickly and hardly could grasp what he was looking at- it seemed the door had flown open in Dedalus' face, and it was as though a great current of wind was blowing through Number Four.

**"MUGGLES! HALFBLOODS! TRAITORS! FAMILY OF SCUM—WE NEED NOT CURSE YOU ANY FURTHER—YOU'VE ALL READY BEEN DAMNED. MARK MY WORDS, WE WILL WIN!" **

And as quickly as the voice had begun screaming, it went away. All three Dursleys were blank, and Hestia was rushing toward Dedalus, who looked thoroughly taken aback. Dudley, feeling even stranger, slowly turned back to face the street. And it was no surprise why he suddenly felt watched.

The entirety of Privet Drive's residents were staring at Number Four. It might have been hilarious if it wasn't so frightening. Kids with skipping ropes. Mothers in khaki and peach blouses. Fathers on lawnmowers and fathers with ties. These were the people who did not know of gang violence, and thought their teens in jerseys and wifebeaters weren't _chavs, _just "fashionable." They couldn't identitfy weed, and they spent their money on haircuts and prime cuts of meat. These were the normal people the Dursleys had existed with for so long. They'd been appearing normal, scraping by, for the past seventeen years, as far as Dudley knew, maybe even before that. And now, it was pretty obvious that there was something funny going on in Number Four.

Dudley waited. The silence was ominous, and the people just stood there gaping.

"Well! What are you looking at? Think we're barmey, do you? Maybe we are! So what? Go back to your lives, for crying out loud!"

As quickly as they had looked, the neighbors all sprang back to what they'd been doing, sending frightening glances over their shoulders. Dudley blinked and turned to his left. "Dad?" he questioned.

Vernon, whose face was a very normal color, did not seem vexed at all. "Ha! Showed them, didn't I?"

--

"Well, Dudley, you're certainly popular," said Mum later that afternoon.

"What?" Dudley turned away from the front window, where he'd been watching the neighbors arguing with each other. They were new kids. He'd never seen them before.

Mum handed him a handful of envelopes. "It looks like your little friends were trying to get in touch with you!"

"Really? Oh. Okay," he replied, surveying the letters. He wouldn't be surprised if Petunia had all ready perused his mail, but it looked untouched. He shuffled through it: one from Smeltings, three from Piers Polkiss and one from Clarice. He put the Smeltings one aside. It was probably lecturing him for having to make up another year at school. He'd all ready been placed in English, sociology, science and physical education, so he didn't know why they were still bothering him. As soon as Petunia went back into the kitchen, Dudley opened up one of Piers' letters. He unfolded a sheet of lined school paper and found himself looking at his friend's familiar, horrible handwriting, complete with eraser markings and crossed out words:

_September 21, 1997_

_Hey Dudley, _

_What's up? I'm sending this to your house so I'm not sure when you'd get it. How was vacation? I hope your dad didn't kill someone! Ha ha! School is pretty boring. Oh, except I started hanging out with Collin Bard. Only because he was supposed to tutor me in maths and he's actually not too bad now. He has some girlfriend so maybe he mellowed out b-cause of that. I don't know. And Malcom and Gordon aren't to bad either. Oh, and Dennis is pretty much an insane wanker, but we knew that all ready. Rumour has it that before last summer, he just watched A Clockwork _ _Orange__ over and over again at Saint Brutus' and decided he was mad or something. Yeah, like he needed anything to tell him that! Ha ha. _

_Well, Clarice and I don't talk much at all. She sort of got on my nerves I guess, for stupid reasons. And she had problems. I think she's moving. Her boyfriend is very quiet. I saw him for about one second or something b-cause they were taking a walk. _

_Write back. They said you be back in January. _

_Your friend, _

_P. Polkiss _

Dudley shook his head. He'd never noticed anything funny between Piers and Clarice, but that was to be expected. He didn't count on himself to notice much of anything in that sort of area. He also didn't know who had told Piers he'd be back in January. Oh well.

_December 5, 1997_

_Hey Dudley, _

_No, I'm not obsessed with you or something, haha. Just wondering how this weird vacation is going. No one even knows where you are. Everyone asks me and everything. I had to take sports and your coach is really scary, _ _Dudley__. He's very angry all the time and stuff. _

_Oh, and Dennis came back. I guess his brother made him, but then he got kicked out again. Basically, that's all that's happened. _

_I'm getting ready to move into _ _London__ in May. You should write back. Maybe we can get together before I leave. How long do you have to stay at Smeltings? Ha ha, you'll be old and stuff. Just kidding. _

_Well, write back as soon as you get this, okay? _

_Your friend, _

_P. Polkiss _

Dudley had to grin at Piers saying he'd be "old and stuff", but he'd all ready worried about that. No doubt he'd stand out in the sea of younger blokes. Not that he wasn't used to standing out, but it would be different.

He opened up the final letter:

_April 20, 1998_

_Dudley_

_I'm thinking you got my letters, and you just haven't written back. I'm not quite sure why, but I don't think I deserve it. You know, Clarice and I were there a lot for you, but when it comes time for you to step up, you usually don't. I mean, the Sarah stuff, your family stuff, I don't even feel like I know you right now. And now this vacation. _

_I haven't been having the greatest time ever, but I usually don't complain. But I've noticed I was friends for a long time with the most spoiled person on the face of the planet. I know you've changed but I don't know why you're ignoring me. _

_Maybe you know, with the boxing and everything, you just figure you're better than me, but I never thought of you being that way. At least toward me. Maybe I was kidding myself being your mate. You beat everyone else up. Maybe it's my turn. _

_If you even care, here's my address included. _

_-P. Polkiss _

Dudley's smile had faded into a blank stare. He placed Piers' letters back on the table. The worst part was that Piers was right— Dudley _had_ been "the most spoiled person on the planet." But Piers was mad just because he hadn't written back yet…? It was nearly July, and they'd just returned! Whatever. Dudley didn't need to respond to that.

He opened Clarice's letter. It was on pink stationary, of course.

_Dudley_

_By the time you get this, I'll have moved out. I regret that you won't be here to say goodbye, but that's the way it is. No one really knows where you went—I hope you're all right! How is everything? _

_I just wanted to let you know that I was thinking about you. _

_Anyway, maybe you'll write back? _

_Love, _

_Clarice _

Dudley gritted his teeth. What was with everyone thinking he'd abandoned them? Why were theyall acting so _stupid? _ Honestly, it was _them _who had moved! Dudley had expected to at least see _someone. _With his luck, his Welcome Home party would consist of Dennis and Sarah. _Whatever._ _I don't really need them anyway, _ Dudley thought with a shrug. _I can't tell them all that's happened, so it wouldn't even matter. I'd just have to tell more lies._ Having friends just didn't even seem worth it anymore if they were being little idiots and blaming him for everything and acting like he was horrible for not saying goodbye to them. _Whatever. _

-One Year Later-

When Dudley graduated from Smeltings that next summer, he felt like a completely different person. He'd served as a coach's assistant on the boxing team, and made school honors. He'd even been offered a partial scholarship for university, but he didn't accept it, despite Mum and Dad's excitement. He just didn't feel like school was the place for him. All he wanted to do was move out and get away from Privet Drive.

During Christmas break, after giving his case to Mum and Dad, Dudley had written a letter to Harry inviting him round for the holiday. It wasn't a long or particularly emotional letter, but he made it clear that they wanted to put things right. Petunia was even a bit excited. But they never heard back from Harry.

"Just give him time, Mum," Dudley had told her steadily. He knew she was feeling immense guilt for how she'd acted, and it was at this time that he'd brought up the photo albums and letters he'd seen while they were in hiding. Petunia was highly embarrassed in the beginning of the conversation, but they were able to have a pretty nice discussion about her sister, and how she'd always felt jealous and slighted.

_"Not only was Lily beautiful, but she was always clever. She made our parents proud because she wanted a career and wanted to flaunt her talent, and I wanted a family. They never understood that, but it was what I wanted," Petunia said. _

_Dudley__ shrugged. "I'm glad that's what you wanted. But I don't understand why you were mad at her, still." _

_"I never understood how I acted toward her, _ _Dudley__. It was just one of those stupid things you do that you come to regret. I sent her Christmas presents every year and cards for her birthday. But I didn't know how to make it right. I didn't approve of James and she hated me for it." _

_Dudley__ was silent. _

_"I never meant to make you a monster, like you said," Petunia shrugged. "I just didn't want you to feel like me. Well, _ _Dudley__, I want you to have that photo album, along with its mate." _

_"It has a mate?" _ _Dudley__ asked. _

_Petunia left for a second, and was back. _ _Dudley__ remembered then—the album he'd looked at had had an 'L' on it. Petunia handed him that one, along with another that had a 'P' on the front. They didn't say much of anything else, but looked at old pictures and laughed. _

Yes, a lot had certainly changed. But Dudley was ready for a new world, outside of Surrey, away from everything. It was about time.

* * *


	29. What Alice Saw

_Chapter Twenty-Nine: What Alice Saw_

* * *

**-Five Years Later-**

_"Got me lookin' so crazy right now, your love's got me looking so crazy right now. Got me lookin' so crazy right now, your touch got me lookin' so crazy right now," _sang a voice from the revolving 6-disk CD stereo on the living room shelf. Dudley exhaled smoke and flicked his cigarette butt over the veranda, looking away from the downtown traffic. He headed into his apartment and hit the remote control for the stereo, changing the music to Eminem's latest album. He didn't mind that other song so much, but some girl had forgotten at the apartment, so it felt weird to listen to it. And anyway, it was a bit repetitive.

He'd gotten a pretty affordable place in London—affordable because it was sort of a shitty little flat, but he liked it enough. It was a one-room with a tiny bathroom and a kitchen with no dish washer Petunia claimed it was in a seedy part of town and wanted him to move, but he could handle seedy. She'd taken to coming over when he wasn't there to clean. This had its advantages and disadvantages. Sure, it was nice to come home to an empty sink and freshly vacuumed carpet, but it was awkward to come home and find that his porn collection had been alphabetized, with a newspaper article about pornography being unhealthy tucked in between _Asian Sluts _and _Affairs with the Girl Next Door. _Vernon hadn't come to visit so far—he and Dudley were currently giving each other the silent treatment due to the fact that Dudley had refused to work at Grunnings. But even Grunnings would be better than being unemployed.

He was currently looking at the moment; he had the week's newspapers all strewn out over his kitchen table, where he'd been circling places to contact. He used to work at some restaurant, as a fry cook in the back. He'd even seen a few people from school and the old neighborhood come in to eat. Colin Bard had flaunted his rather attractive girlfriend and he and Dudley had reminisced a bit about the old days, as though nothing bad had passed between them. The job had been fine. It was okay money and all right hours, but he didn't like the boss. In fact, they'd gotten into a few confrontations. Dudley figured it was because this guy didn't like the fact that Dudley was so big and strong, some sort of complex. Anyway, he'd given his notice, and immediately realized what a stupid thing it was to do. Still, he figured it was time to move on.

So far, he'd called a strip club that was in need of floor staff. There were many benefits to this job, clearly. But he'd also circled an ad for a club that was also in need of security, as well as a few restaurant positions, and a music store clerk. But he _really _wanted that strip club job, even if he'd have to lie about it to Mum. He crossed into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get some leftover fajitas from a date a few days back. He'd met her on the bus. She was stacked with black hair. They'd fooled around at the apartment afterward, but he couldn't remember her name. Anyway, they were good fajitas.

As always, when he opened the fridge, he avoided the note Mum had posted on it a few months back. It had Piers' number on it. Apparently, he and Dudley had been invited to Clarice's wedding and the two of them wanted to meet him for lunch or something and then attend the wedding at some point, but Dudley just hadn't had the will to call back. But the number sat there, waiting for him to dial it. He kept meaning to, but he had no idea what he'd say. Besides, the wedding had passed.

And just like that, the phone rang. Dudley waited, putting down the styrafoam container that held strips of sweetly seasoned beef, bright orange peppers and salsa. He always screened his calls.

_"This is __Dudley__. I'm not answering my phone, I guess. Leave a message." Beep. _"Dudley," said a man's voice," this is Jimmy from Enigmas. My boss is David and he had to run out today but he wanted me to give you a call back. He wants to see you tomorro', like around two or somethin'—"

_The strip club. _Dudley picked up the receiver. "'lo, this is Dudley. So, tomorrow at two? I can make that."

"Great, thanks, man," said the guy and they both hung up.

He _had _to pass this interview.

Around one forty-five, Dudley headed into Enigmas in black trousers and a black dress shirt, with his only pair of nice shoes. He had to admit he looked pretty good. One look around the club gave him the impression that it was a pretty lowdown place—he hadn't gone to many clubs, but he'd certainly been to ones nicer than this. Still, it was an ideal job. He was greeted by the doorman who directed him to the back office.

A stocky redhaired bloke (David?) who looked to be around Dudley's age was sitting at a desk, filling out paperwork and talking on the phone. "It's only illegal, sir, if _you _got your face in her tits—there _is _no _her getting her tits in **your **face_—I'm sorry for your arrest but you can get stuffed. She didn't do nothing wrong—oh yeah? Well, I'll be in contact with my lawyer." He threw down the phone. "Sod."

Dudley cleared his throat.

"Oh, so sorry to keep you waiting," said David, standing up and extending his hand. Dudley was about to tell him it was fine, but the bloke pulled his hand back and stared at him. "I know you," he said, and then chortled.

"Sorry…?"

"Big D," said David. "Dudley Dursley. You've certainly shaped up, haven't you? Impressive."

Dudley stared at his face, trying to place him. "Uhm… Sorry, but I really don't remember you. Did you go to Smeltings, or…?"

"No, I didn't go to Smeltings, _Big D. _And you wouldn't remember me anyway. I was one of the nameless chaps you used to beat up on. At the playground, you remember? David Johnson—_Johnson, _you used to call me, never really talked to me except when you were slugging me in the mouth. And the conversation wasn't so nice, then."

"Oh," said Dudley, suddenly feeling like this job interview wasn't going to go so well. "Well, I don't—I don't do that anymore—"

"Sure you don't," said Johnson with a smirk. "You've turned your obsession with bloodying people to a pulp into something that looks good on a resume, and now you're going to tell me you don't have the same temper, and you wouldn't dream of beating the shit out of one of my customers. Or my employees—or my dancers. Right, Big D?"

"I _don't _beat up people anymore—I've been training and I figured I could do something to do with… uhm…" Dudley was drawing a blank now, his face turning pink. "Protection," he finished.

"Yeah, well, that's one thing you and I have in common, 'cause I wouldn't dream of hiring a scum like you here, Dudley. I'm _protecting _my business, you see."

"Oh," said Dudley clumsily," well, then." He backed out of the doorway, more than a little flustered. He hurried out the front door and back into the autumn afternoon, trying to breathe deeply. It was clear nothing was going to be easy. _Can you change your last name? _he thought.

Mortified, he headed around the corner, coming face-to-face with a bloke who couldn't have been more than sixteen. The kid had sandy hair partly hidden by a light blue sideways cap and sported a chunky, silver chain around his thin neck. "Wotch out," the kid said dully. He was pushing a pram in front of him. Dudley glanced into the stroller, caught a glimpse of a small toddler fast asleep. Half expecting to see a chavette mum prance into the picture, Dudley side-stepped, but caught the teen boy's eye again, tried to give a nod. But what was Dudley to him? The kid narrowed his eyes and kept walking, his track pants dragging on the cement.

"Hello," said a woman's voice," this is The Eaves, how can I help you?"

"Yeah, could I have your boss?" Dudley asked into the phone receiver.

The woman paused and laughed. "My boss? What are you getting at, eh?"

"Your boss, I want to speak to him, there was an add in the paper for a bouncer, yeah?"

"Yeah," she replied, "I know. I wrote it up. There is no him. _I'm _my boss."

Dudley sighed quietly. Honestly, would he fuck anything else up today? "Oh—I didn't mean anything by it—"

"Have you ever worked for a woman before?"

"No—" said Dudley slowly.

"Well, I own this place, I do just fine and if you remember to not say stupid things, we'll get on well."

"Yeah, of course," Dudley said, hoping he hadn't blown his chance all ready. This lady seemed intense.

"What would you do if someone had drunk too much and was pressing up on a girl?"

"Er…" Dudley's throat had gone dry. He _had _dealt with this sort of thing before, but a long time ago and not very well. Dennis giving Sarah mysterious pills. Parties in dark rooms. "Act calm at first but if he kept at it, I'd let him know he was wrong—"

"And if a girl was doing the same to a bloke?"

She had him there. "Well, I'd… try to stop 'er…and then…—" Dudley paused.

"See, you've got to know how to deal with women, 'cause they can be threats, too. How tall are ya, mate?"

"Six foot uh…five," Dudley said.

"Can you come by now? I've got thirty minutes left in my break."

"Uh…" Dudley checked the time on the microwave clock. "I can be there… soon—"

"Great, see you when you arrive." _Click. _

Dudley stared at the receiver. This woman was a loony. He had a brief pep talk with himself, trying to convince himself that he could easily find a job somewhere else and not with a raving feminist who obviously had intentions of chopping his balls off if he didn't regard her as a more powerful entity than him. But something made him leave the living room.

The Eaves was clearly a new establishment. It took nearly twenty minutes for Dudley to get in the door. He had to keep showing his identification over and over again and yelling over the booming bass that he was here for an interview. Everyone seemed to be convinced that he was trying to trick them. After paying a ten quid cover fee, Dudley walked into what seemed like a dark, hot version of one of that drug-dealing kid Damien's parties—people grinding up on each other, loud music, smoke… There was a bar to the right of the DJ pit, and all ready Dudley found himself staring at a slew of twenty-something year old women with bleached hair and shrill voices.

"Oogling customers all ready? I might have to fire you before you've started!" said a sharp voice.

Dudley looked to his right. No one was there. He then looked down. He found himself staring at a very, very short woman. She was black with dyed blonde hair that was cut very short and shaved smoothly. She had small, angular breasts, a figure made of straight lines and tons of piercings in her ears.

"Uhm. I wasn't…doing… Whatever you said," Dudley managed to get out. He'd honestly been expecting a seven foot tall Amazon woman with huge muscles, but this was sort of a joke.

"Sure you weren't," said the lady, but she was grinning wryly as though she saw people like him all the time and lived her life for the sheer purpose of insulting them. "What's your name?"

"Dudley. Dudley Dursley," he said, and stuck out his humungous hand awkwardly.

She slipped her extremely tiny one into it and shook _hard. _"Dudley. I'd have pegged you for an Ace or Jack, but not _Dudley_That's kind of high-end."

"Grew up on Privet Drive, in Surrey," Dudley said shortly.

She cocked her eyebrow. "Nice little lawn, mum, dad, the whole bit?"

"Something like that," he replied, thinking about magic, drugs, about gazebos.

"Well, _Dudley, _you just get more and more interesting. I'm Maureen—"

"You're what!?" Dudley exclaimed.

"A BIT LOUD, ISN'T IT?" she shouted up to him. "Come on." And with that, Dudley began to follow this strange little woman to the upstairs of the club. It was a bit quieter, but full of people making out, which made it more than a little awkward. She ushered him over to a leather couch. "So, Dudley, I'm Maureen, but you can call me Mo. I bought this club half a year ago, but we only just opened in August."

Dudley nodded slightly, unsure of how he was supposed to react to her. Honestly, she scared him a little. His old boss had been a right prick, but it had been all right for Dudley to lose his temper at him—it was something men did, and then they forgot. But having a woman as a boss… This was a different story.

Mo smiled like she'd just conquered a small village, crossed one leg over the other. She was wearing black combat boots. "So," she said," you're still here. I'm impressed." She laughed to herself. "Now, what makes you think you can work here?"

Dudley shrugged his great shoulders. Everything seemed to be whirling now. He hated job interviews; they were like mini intelligence tests. He'd given up lying about his character long ago. Really, he could have landed several jobs while in primary school and Smeltings, from the way he could lie about his credentials. _I didn't touch him! I'd never steal someone's dinner. I'd never… I wouldn't… I couldn't! _But now, he felt bare and listless, like everyone could see it anyway. It wasn't worth pretending. Shit like the strip club incident happened once in awhile. He could never quite stop being Dudley Dursley, Number Four, Privet Drive. Even this chick had pegged him for a square when she'd heard where he grew up. It was always one or the other. He wasn't sure which was worse. "I was a boxer in school," he began dully, not even alive enough to sell himself to this woman. "But I also know how to block throws and punches. I'm gonna be honest."

Mo raised her eyebrows, as though he'd all ready been a bit too honest about himself with just the way he'd addressed her on the telephone.

"I know what pills look like, pot. I know what people look like when they're on it. I know how to pick out who's selling, Who's looking. I can break up fights."

"Why should I hire you?" Mo asked, brown eyes focused deeply on him. She didn't ask how he knew—he figured she had a pretty clear picture of him now, a real classic suburbanite badass, allowance for baggies of weed, bad rap and overpriced designer trainers. A real phony. But he didn't care. He needed this job, but it all seemed to be slipping away.

"Well," Dudley said, feeling tense. "I quit my job at this restaurant 'cause I didn't like the boss. Then I went to this interview today at some stripclub and the bloke was this kid I used to beat up on, and I don't beat up on people anymore but I'm really good at—well, I _want _to protect people and I—I _just need a job!" _

And wouldn't you know it? Hard-faced, pierced, feminist Mo sighed deeply. "Come back round this time tomorrow for training, Dudley. We'll see how you work out."

"Wha—really?" Dudley burst out without thinking. "I mean, yeah, okay."

Mo shook her head as he got up, casting a dark shadow over her. She shook his hand again, noticing a tattoo on her hand that trailed down her wrist, a winding, open-mouthed serpent.

Months later, Dudley and Mo were wound so tightly around each other that the other employees at the club made frequent jokes that he was the only man she'd ever paid positive attention to. She loved to make fun of him lightly for everything, anything, and he'd give one of his stupid comebacks, pretend to be truly enraged at her. This delighted Mo for some reason. She liked the way he worked—got in, got out, no funny business. He was making good money and actually socializing with other people once in a while.

"Hey, D, there's a bloke at the bar trying to use what Karen says is a fake ID," came Mo's voice over the walkie-talkie.

Though it had taken a long time to get used to it, Dudley liked using the walkie-talkies. They made him feel like he was in an action movie. "Yeah, I'm on my way," Dudley said, turning away from the entry way, where some young girls were getting a pat-down from the doorman, John.

"Well, move faster, we haven't got all night, you know," Mo retorted.

"Oh, piss off," Dudley said jokingly. He approached the bar where Lucinda, the bartender, was arguing with a guy. Karen, the co-owner of The Eaves, a stern, no-nonsense woman stood by. Dudley clipped the walkie-talkie to his belt and strode between Karen and Lucinda. "What's the trouble?"

The man quit talking mid-sentence. It was obvious he'd been trying to sweet-talk Luce. Dudley understood why—she was tan and blonde with a great laugh, but this sod hadn't likely made her laugh. "Just trying to get a drink—"

"Yeah?" said Dudley calmly. It was always his size that scared people, so he usually tried to speak slowly and like he didn't really care _what _happened. That threw them off. "How old are you?"

"Twenty three—"

"Like hell you are," Dudley said, when Karen handed him the ID. "This bloke looks like he's got red hair. And you've got this nice brown."

The guy paled a bit—he knew he'd been caught then. It was strange that it often took a man to show them that they were wrong.

"All right, all right, I'm eighteen, then—" the bloke spat out, staring at Dudley angrily.

"Get a new ID card and then we'll see, come on," Dudley said, ushering the angry bloke to the entrance while getting verbally attacked by a slew of cuss words. It was like this almost every night. Young kids trying to sneak in and get drunk and high. Dudley wondered why they didn't just do it at home. Then again, he was never much of in-the-spotlight user. Mum seemed to think his job was very dangerous because she'd seen shows on telly where the floor staff of clubs got attacked by angry mobs and ended up throwing them all out in the streets by their shirt collars. But no, mostly it was underage drinking, drug busts and patrons misjudging other patrons' "personal space." Mo often had Dudley stand near the dance floor, staring at the guys who tried to rub up on women the wrong way. Most of the time, they moved far away when they spied him there.

Physical force wasn't allowed. A handful of times, Dudley had gotten punched, kicked or scratched by a guest resisting him, but there was no epic fighting involved. And he definitely got some looks from the opposite sex, which was always interesting. _"No sex on my watch!" _Mo always said, or if she was having a bad day: _"Oi! They're women, not slabs of meat!" _

He was feeling pretty good about himself these days. The weight-lifting and boxing had definitely paid off. He was thick-bodied and could still be described as enormous, but no longer was he an obese kid—though he still felt like it sometimes. He wore the normal uniform, all black with a form-fitting t-shirt, his blond hair cut short.

Dudley checked his watch. Only ten minutes until his cigarette break and an hour and a half before he got to clock out. Good job or not, it was always a nice feeling to walk out the door.

"Thanks, Big D," said Luce, rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, no problem. Just another idiot, that's all." Dudley surveyed the bar. Everything seemed to be in order. Maybe he could get home early. He hadn't been sleeping very well lately.

Luce threw back her head and laughed. "That's for sure. That's for damn sure—" Luce liked to repeat everything, for emphasis, most likely. Either that, or she didn't have much to say. Dudley liked that about her. He never had much to say either.

"Any plans for the weekend?" Dudley asked, only mildly interested, as usual.

"My man and I are going to the cinema and then out to dinner for our one year. One year! I'm thinking he might pop the question… I'm thinking," she said, shaking back her wavy hair while mixing a drink. "What about you, D?"

He drummed his hand on the bar. "Oh. You know. Have to go to the grocer's. Watch telly. Important stuff."

"You're so funny," she said. "So funny." Dudley really wasn't sure if that was true.

"Dudley, I want you on the dance floor," came Mo's voice again. "Be prepared to do some serious patting down, this girl is far gone. She's in the middle—can't miss her--"

"Yeah, I'm on it," he said into the walkie-talkie and grimaced at Luce. "Yeah, well…"

She shook her head and grinned. "Never a dull moment."

Dudley headed toward the dance floor, towering over practically everyone. The pulsing beat of the music melted into a slow, softer melody, one of the only slow-dance tracks that reminded Dudley of being fifteen again. People coupled up around him and got angry when he bumped into them. "Yeah, sorry," he said," got to get by, got to get by." Sometimes Luce's way of speaing rubbed off on him like that. The lights up above became a dramatic blue. Dudley strained his eyes to see which girl Mo had been talking about. Did she think he was a superhero? There were tons of people.

But as soon as he thought that to himself, he saw exactly who Mo was indicating. The woman was dancing alone—people had made a space for her, and those closest to her were gawking, pointing and laughing, out of nervousness or fear, most likely, because it wasn't quite funny. She was doing pretty nasty moves, and the black miniskirt she was wearing was so short that it was halfway over her pink thong.

That was when Dudley stopped in his tracks. It was Sarah Cleelvans.

He hadn't seen Sarah since that time outside Clarice's house, but as she slowly turned around, he knew that it was no mistake. Her long black hair fell in her face, and her lopsided top had straps that were falling off her shoulders. Her eyes were black and empty and on her heavily lipsticked mouth was a strange expression. She was definitely high—possibly Ecstasy. Dudley had no desire to see her. He didn't want to remember again. His shoulders felt stiff. But if he didn't do his job, there would certainly be consequences. And she might not know who he was, anyway. Trying to put his best work-face on, he continued forward. The crowd stared, excited.

"Miss," Dudley said, feeling more than odd," miss—"

Sarah looked up… sort of. Her smile was as lopsided as her seedy little tank top. Her eyes were unsteady. "Hi," she said, moving her hands down the front of her miniskirt, where her crotch was nearly fully exposed, pink panties on show for the world to see. "Just having a good time."

"Have you been using any drugs tonight?" asked Dudley. He was usually supposed to keep a light tone, but he sounded forced.

She giggled, pulling on her skirt. "_Nooo, _have you?" She stared at him a little more, her grin becoming more pronounced. "Hey," she said.

"Have you been using any drugs?" Dudley repeated forcefully. "Prescription meds? E?"

"_Hey," _she repeated, swinging her hips. "I think I know you. I _do _know you, mate." She giggled, waggling her hips.

"I'm going to have to do a patdown search," Dudley said, trying to ignore what she was saying. His heart was pounding in his chest.

"I said," Sarah pouted," _I know you. _I'd… know that voice any day, Big D. You got tall. _Big D." _She broke out giggling, her staring eyes growing wider. "Holy shit," she said.

_Pretty much, _Dudley thought, but he was mortified. "I don't—" he shook his head. No sense trying to tell her he'd never met her. He'd just pretend it didn't matter. "I've got to search you. On the count of five, I'm going to take you to the side of the club, all right?"

"Fuck you," she said, but she was cracking up. "Patdown. Funny," she snorted. Now that they were closer, he could see her features better. When they had been younger, she'd been an equal mix of harsh and striking, but since then, harsh had won out. She wore dark eye shadow and bright lipstick that made her look like a cheap whore. Maybe she _was _a cheap whore.

"Why's she still out there? Get her off the floor, she's causing a scene!" said Mo over the walkie-talkie.

"Mm, Big _D," _she said, and suddenly pressed herself to his chest, still giggling insanely. "Loads nicer built," she told him quietly, "of course, I never would've called you fat back then, but do you know how many of my friends asked if it was hard being fucked by you?"

Dudley's face burned, as he tried to get her off of him without touching her anywhere that could get Mo a lawsuit, but her tits were sort of all over. He finally grasped her by the arms and pushed her back as gently as he could—she was still freakishly light. Her arms were covered in razor cuts and needle holes. Dudley quickly let go of them. She stood there like a half-dead ragdoll.

"I'm sending backup," Mo said," what in the hell is going on?"

"Oh Big_ D," _Sarah simpered, suddenly alive again," you aren't being very nice." She kicked her foot and a black high heel fell off. "I've got a much nicer bloke these days. We're engaged," she said, wiggling her left hand, but there was no ring on it.

"You have to move off to the side," Dudley begged, feeling a sweat breaking out on his back.

"Such a bossyboots," Sarah giggled, weaving her arms around his waist. She rubbed her crotch against the front of his trousers, the miniskirt riding up even further. Dudley exhaled, feeling himself getting a very unwelcome erection.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," she said smoothly.

"Just get off!" he exclaimed. "RIGHT NOW."

"All right, Dud," said John, the door-checker, appearing from behind. "You causing Dudley some trouble, missy? Let's get you to a quieter place."

"Just _piss off," _Sarah pouted, trying to pick up her shoe and nearly toppling over. A little baggie fell out of her top and onto the dance floor. "None of anyone is any fun around here—"

"Well, that makes it easy," John said. "Dudley, call the coppers, we've got possession of illegal substances at least—"

"Yeah—" Dudley said, still in shock. "I—"

"YOU BLEEDING FUCK!" Sarah shrieked. "YOU PROMISED. YOU PROMISED ME."

"You know this girl?" John asked, cocking his brow as he grabbed hold of Sarah's shoulders. She began to flail her arms, and instead of screaming, she started laughing hysterically again.

Dudley went to shrug, but everything was whirling around him. He and Sarah had been in different worlds for the past nine years, and he hadn't prepared to ever make contact again. He somehow had imagined her being fourteen forever with a saucy little smile, not a twenty-four year old crackwhore with an embarrassing skirt riding over her ass. It shook him. Like he was an adult and she wasn't, or… like he had picked the right road and she'd gone down some dark, rotting path.

Or maybe he was just as stupid and ridiculous as her. Who was he kidding, anyway?

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" came Mo's voice from behind Dudley. "Looks like a right little party over here. D, you need to take your break—"

"O—Okay," Dudley sputtered, still beguiled by Sarah squirming in John's arms.

"_This little piggie went to market," _Sarah said," _hahaha!" _

"D, GO!" Mo shouted.

At that, Dudley turned away from Sarah's laughter and the bewildered expressions of his boss and John. He headed past the crowds of people, gaping and laughing at the misfortune of that pathetic girl in the high, high heels.

"All right," Mo said, coming out the back entrance and standing next to Dudley along the brick wall of the alley. In the distance, a car alarm sounded. Dudley blew out smoke from his second cigarette and tossed it on the ground, his palms feeling cool and dry. There was a silence that lasted several minutes. "Honestly," she continued. "You've booted out blokes as big as you, Dudley. And you couldn't bust a little girl for drugs?"

"Sorry," Dudley muttered coldly.

"I don't want your apologies, I want to know why."

Dudley's face reddened. What good would it do to tell Mo he didn't want anything to do with that girl? That she'd been part of his life when he was a selfish, piggy bully and he didn't want to revisit that time period? He shook his head and lit up another cigarette.

"I like you," Mo said quietly. "You know I like you, but if it's what I think it is, I'll have to fire you. You can quit right now if you want to—"

"Wait, what?" Dudley asked, completely confused.

"She was a girl you used to sell to, wasn't she?"

Dudley's eyes widened and then he rapidly shook his head, forgetting the cigarette for all of a few seconds. "Naw," he said," no, that's not it… I mean…" He chortled, sucking in nicotine and recalling pink miniskirts and pregnancy tests. "I never sold… well, as a job or anything—"

Mo stared him down, as venomous as the snakes on her arms. She hated liars and she didn't tolerate bad excuses.

"Sarah Cleelvans was my first real girlfriend. If you can call it that. When I was fifteen. We did stupid shit. School kid stuff. Smoked dope, fucked… That kind of thing." It felt weird to tell it to a complete stranger. Everyone who knew had seen it all for themselves. But now it seemed like a fairy tale. "She became a bit of a stalker. And I became a bit of a dick. Long story short, I hadn't seen her in a long time."

Mo breathed a sigh of relief. "I was this close to letting you go, D—" she made a motion with her hands. "It was about a break-up?"

"More than a break-up," Dudley said, exhaling. "My nightmare."

"Deep, Big D, very deep," Mo cracked, shaking her head. "I wouldn't peg you for being one to attach yourself to a girl. What with your frequent flier miles."

Dudley put out his cigarette on the wall and leaned back. "Yeah well… I wasn't attached to her…"

"Yeah well," Mo imitated. "I've never seen you so terrified—"

"Whatever." Dudley rolled his eyes. "I wasn't terrified—"

"Anyway, the cops took her off. Ecstasy tablets hidden in her bra. Sad, really. She told them she was pregnant."

"No," Dudley said quietly. "Fuck me."

"Don't tell me," Mo said, raising her eyebrow.

"Oh. Oh, no, it's been years since we—"

"Okay, good," Mo breathed. "Anyway. Who knows if she was telling the truth—"

"That's a good point," said Dudley wryly, but still felt horrible. It would have been so much nicer to see her all dressed up in a navy suit with a job, but that wasn't how life went. Dudley had been realizing that for years.

"Why don't you clock out early tonight? I know blasts from the past can shake you sometimes."

Dudley caught Mo's eye. He liked how she never made anything out to be bigger than it was, like it was completely normal. "Thanks," he said, but he meant so much more.

Clad in a black leather jacket, Dudley headed out from the club, past the horde of people still waiting to get into the club. He felt completely detached but also alive, like when he'd tried so desperately to find out why he'd turned out the way he did, many years back. He ran a finger through his hair and sighed, crossing streets without noticing what he was doing. He hardly realized he'd reached his apartment house until he had started halfway up the staircase.

"Damn," he sighed, getting off the stairs and heading down the hall to his apartment. He noticed that the hallway was filled with cardboard cartons. The elevator made a dinging noise to his right.

"Bloody hell!" yelled a voice, and Dudley turned to look. A dark-haired woman staggered out holding a huge box, which was teetering over her arms. "Oh no—" she said, looking like she was on the verge of falling over.

"Whoa, hey, hey!" Dudley moved over as quickly as he could and grabbed the box, steadying her. He stifled a laugh. "Looks like you might need a hand, yeah?"

"Yeah, you might say that," she drawled, pressing the box into his arms. Dudley shifted it around in his arms and stopped moving when he caught a glimpse of her. She was smiling, her brown, wavy hair pulled up into a ponytail. She was in jeans and a bright blue shirt that was much too big for her. "Thanks," she said. He noticed she had her eyes on his biceps.

He tried not to smile and instead focused on making the task look like it was nothing. The box shifted against his shoulder. "Oh. Yeah, no trouble. Where's it going?"

"Apartment forty-eight," she said, pointing.

"Yeah? No shit. I'm in forty-nine," he said. He dropped the box onto the floor near the others.  
"Why you moving in so late?"

The woman shrugged, reddening a little. "I couldn't stand it anymore. Personal stuff."

Dudley suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Oh? Yeah, okay…"

She seemed to sense his discomfort and smiled again, sticking out her hand. "Thanks a lot, neighbor!"

"No problem," he said, blushing a little bit at the "neighbor" greeting," I'm Dudley Dursley."

"Nice to meet you, Dudley. I'm Victoria George." She shook his hand firmly, and then made a serious face. "And that's Victoria. Not Vicky, Vick, Vee-Vee, or Lil' V."

Dudley laughed. "What? You serious? Lil' V?"

"Quiet!" she declared. "They used to call me that when I was younger—"

"No, it's just… I was… well, to some people I still am, Big D."

Victoria burst out laughing, her smile a big beam. She clapped her hands. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, and a whole lot of other nicknames I'm not going to get into here." Dudley snickered.

She grinned widely. "Well, okay, Dudley, I don't want to keep you…"

"It's fine," he said. "You need more lifting?"

"More what?" she asked.

"Uh- I mean, you need me to lift anymore stuff for you?" He could feel his face turning red.

Victoria shook her head. "I've wasted way too much of your time all ready, but thank you so much. The rest of this I can just kick inside my apartment. I won't be putting it away anytime soon, anyway—"

Dudley thought of his mother cringing at this statement. "Well, okay…"

She put a hand on her hip. "If you ever need a cup of sugar, I'll be here."

"Oh… okay," Dudley said, wondering why the hell he thought she was so sexy. This was great. Like he needed a crush on his neighbor on top of everything else. But she was definitely sizing him up. "You…too," he finished awkwardly, jumbling with his keys. He could feel her stare on his back until he closed the door behind him. He breathed a sigh, not about the cute new neighbor, but about the entire day in general. How could Sarah Cleelvans make him feel so weird again?

He flipped on the television and then headed to his bedroom, grabbing his weights.

"Next on the nightly report: The man charged with four accounts of rape in the Yorkshire area has been caught. Dennis Clarke was found last evening trying to flee a crime scene. He has been taken in for questioning."

Dudley's eyes widened, mortified, and he headed back out to the living room, one weight in his hand. Sure enough, there was Dennis on telly, smiling like a freak. "What a dick!" Dudley managed to say loudly. He'd heard about the rapes earlier in the month, but he'd never even suspected he'd know the bloke accused of them…Why would he? This was all just freakish. He pumped his weight hard, not really noticing the motion of it. What else is going to happen? Dudley thought bitterly, watching as a few women described almost being attacked by Dennis at some bus stop.

"He dropped his knife," one of them said. "And that's when we called the police."

He stood there for a while, pumping his weight with a sort of fury, staring at the television but not really watching as the weather report came on. Next door, he could hear Victoria singing along to what sounded like a sad song. It was times like this when he really wanted some weed. He hardly ever smoked out anymore but on days when it was too much, it felt kind of nice to just lay back on the couch, put on a video and relax. But what about times like this when even that seemed like too much effort?

Just then, someone started knocking on the door. Dudley's first wild thought was that it was Dennis. Then Sarah. Or maybe the pair of them. Then he realized as they were both in police custody that it was a very stupid thought. He grinned. That meant it was Victoria. All ready. "Well, hi, Dudley," she'd say, "I just needed some more help…" Still smiling, he headed to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open.

"Big D."

Dudley stood in the doorway, his mouth slowly opening, but no words were coming out. He was staring into the face of his cousin Harry Potter.

* * *


	30. Cabbages and Kings

**an: Thanks **for all the favs/alerts/reviews. Also, I've started reading this story aloud at my homepage, so if you're interested, it's sort of amusing and whatnot. Sorry this is overdue. Anyway, here it is. There's an epilogue coming shortly. Enjoy.

_Chapter Thirty: Cabbages and Kings_

* * *

Harry smiled and gave a small wave. "Hi," he said, as though he had to make it even more obvious that he just happened to be standing in Dudley's doorway. What was even stranger was he looked like an adult. He had new glasses, boxy, black frames, and also a haircut that didn't make his bangs fall in his face. He wore a plain, buttoned white dress shirt and slacks. Like some sort of actual grown person from television.

"Harry?" Dudley managed to get out. He had absolutely no idea what to make of this. First Sarah, then Dennis the rapist, now Potter? Harry was staring at him as though expecting him to say something else, so he went on. "What's uh… what's up?" Where the hell did you find where I lived? he thought, but it might be offensive to say that, at least right away. His voice sounded deep and dull. With Harry here, he could feel himself at five, ten, fifteen… It didn't seem so distant.

"Not much, Dudley, not much," Harry said, smiling like he was very amused. Dudley wondered if maybe everyone just repeated stuff to him, but he put that out of his mind. "Look, sorry to just come here out of nowhere," he began, still smiling so it was obvious he wasn't too sorry at all," but I called on Aunt Petunia and she gave me your address."

"You… called on Mum?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah, I suppose I should have written first. Made Uncle Vernon's night, definitely." He gave a laugh and shrugged.

Dudley laughed along with him just because he didn't know what else to do.

"They gave me your number and I tried to call, but you must have been at work—"

"Oh, yeah, I'm there quite a lot," Dudley said, as though that was something to brag about, still standing in the middle of the doorway.

"She says you like it—"Harry began and then he looked past Dudley, into the apartment. "Well, uh, I've got some time. Do you mind?"

"Mind what?" Dudley asked.

Harry paused, as though he couldn't believe that was the answer, looking even more amused. "Can I come in, that is?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Dudley said, flushing. He opened the door, and his cousin pushed through. Dudley put his weight down on the floor and switched off the television.

"Nice place," Harry said.

"You don't have to lie," Dudley declared—

"No, really, it's nice." He looked all around, and all of a sudden, Dudley was very conscious of his apartment: the off-white walls that needed painting, the dark carpet, the open bathroom door with the towel-strewn floor in clear view. "Especially the flowers." Harry was indicating a vase full of assorted plants on the dining room table.

"Those were from Mum. I don't buy flowers. For myself."

"Naturally," Harry said, and laughed, sort-of.

Dudley cracked his knuckles. It was weird enough when people he was expecting came over. Creepy, even. He only cleaned up when a woman was coming over, but even then, he didn't really care too much about how the place looked, and he never liked anybody to stay very long. But what about his cousin who he hadn't heard from in years? Harry Potter? Dudley had long since quit worrying about mending him and Harry's relationship, but it seemed like today was all about pushing everything right into the forefront of his mind again. "Do you drink coffee?" he finally asked.

Harry looked amused. "Yes, I do."

"Well, okay," Dudley said. "I can make some coffee. And you should probably sit down… I mean, if you want…" To stop the awkwardness at least to a certain degree, Dudley turned around immediately and busied himself with the coffee maker.

"So, you're a bouncer!? Aunt Petunia says you really like your work."

"Oh yeah," Dudley said. "It's good."

"She made you out to be some sort of hero, Dud, said you were out there saving lives and everything—" Harry said and snickered.

Dudley turned around. "Yeah right. I'm not any hero, that's for sure. Just keep people in check."

Harry suddenly was very straight faced. "Well, I wouldn't mess with you, anyway. I think it's good you like your job. A lot of people don't."

Dudley walked out of the kitchen and joined Harry on the couch, though on the complete opposite end. "It'll be a second."

"What will?"

"The coffee."

"Oh, right. Okay," Harry said.

"Well, what about you? What are you doing?" Dudley asked, fiddling with the arm of the chair.

Harry settled back a little bit. "I'm employed by the ministry of magic, the people who helped you in hiding, do you remember?"

"Of course I remember."

"Right, I figured, of course, but anyway, I'm working there, and I don't know if you knew, but I got married last summer—"

"Oh yeah, I do remember hearing something about something. Who is she anyway?" Dudley asked, flexing his right arm, trying to give himself some sort of reality check, because this was just completely strange.

Harry let out a little chuckle of some sort. "She was a good friend in school, the sister of my best friend Ron Weasley—"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember the name Weasley. Were those the redhead people?"

"Those are the ones," Harry grinned, crossing one leg over the other.

"Well, how's that going anyway, being married to… uh…?"

"Ginny? It's great, it's going even better than I ever would have thought."

Dudley nodded. He wasn't sure that any of this was making sense. It was like a time warp. "That's brilliant," he said.

"And we've got a baby on the way. A boy," Harry added, beaming.

"Damn, Harry!" Dudley exclaimed. "That's good, I guess." He was afraid Harry was going to start showing him pictures from inside his wallet, or some business.

Harry grinned. "I'll take that as a congratulations. So, thanks."

"Yeah, no problem." The coffee was finished, so Dudley got off the couch again. "What do you take in yours?" he asked, getting out two mugs.

"Black with sugar."

"That's me, too," Dudley said, figuring that was maybe the only thing they had in common. He came back with the cups and handed one to Harry.

"Thanks," Harry said, leaning back again. There was a pause. "Well, what about you? How's life?"

"Absolutely nothing too new," Dudley said honestly, but Harry chortled. "Work, sometimes the store…" Those were his two staple answers. Nothing really happened besides the job and needing bangers and milk.

"Any girlfriend?" Harry asked.

"A fair few," Dudley replied. "A few steadies, a couple random ones. Not anythin' too serious."

Harry sighed into his coffee. "I'm sure Aunt Petunia approves of that."

"What she don't know won't hurt her," Dudley grinned, almost forgetting that this was Harry Potter, his nerdy cousin. "Magda, Allison, and Ronnie, those are the three I see most."

"Some things never change," Harry said.

"Guess not."

"I'm hoping certain things have changed, though," Harry began. "You do play a bit safer these days, don't you?"

"Oh yeah, rubber's my best friend. Even if she says she's on The Pill, because she's probably lying anyway," Dudley shrugged.

Harry snorted. "Still an optimistic person, aren't you?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not really," Dudley said.

"But anyway," Harry started to say, clearing his throat, beginning to look like he wished he'd never dropped by," you look great."

'You look great,' Dudley repeated to himself. The classic line of everyone, no matter how he looked, you look great. If they hadn't seen him since school, it was you look great. "People seem to think so," he said a bit tersely. "Nearly everyone I see's got to mention it."

"Well, you do—the boxing and all," Harry said, realizing he'd wandered down a touchy path.

"Yeah, well, it's not like it's that different."

"It's loads different. You look healthy now. I'm sure a lot of people were worried about you," Harry said simply. "That's all."

"Well, thanks, I guess," Dudley said. "You look… pretty much the same."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I don't really bother to change much. Ginny's mum finally convinced me to get a haircut. She hinted that it aggravated her to have a son-in-law who looked like a right bohemian."

Dudley snorted. "The mother-in-law, huh? It as bad as the movies make it out to be?"

"Not at all," Harry replied, "although it's a bit different for me. I mean, I practically felt like Mrs. Weasley, Molly, that is, was my other mum growing up. She really treated me like her own son."

"So I heard," Dudley shrugged lamely. That was a whole other world he'd only made guesses about. "So there's like… a ton of kids in that family, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry nodded, putting his coffee cup down on the table and beginning to talk with his hands. "My friend Ron, who I think you saw once or twice, he's the youngest boy and Ginny's the youngest out of everyone and the only girl. Then there's George, who's a real prankster to this day, and Percy—he works with me at the ministry. Then Charlie and Bill, who's married to Fleur, who I knew from school. Then we've got Teddy Tonks, the son of one of my teachers who died, and he comes to my house quite often. Cute kid, really smart, too. Ginny calls him our test-run son. There used to be another son in the Weasley family, Fred, but… he died in the war. It doesn't seem like so many years have passed since then, but they have."

Dudley nodded. He remembered how depressed everyone in hiding had been to hear that Fred Weasley had died. He didn't need to make any remarks, because Harry was still talking.

"My friend Ron married our other best friend Hermione, finally. It's been pretty obvious since we were fourteen that this was how it would be, and let me tell you, they're the strangest couple. They're always fighting stupidly and then making up ten minutes later. It's very nice in a disturbing way."

Dudley had to laugh, but this was all extremely odd. He could hardly imagine Harry with all these married couples and this separate family, talking about having kids and paying the bills. Harry seemed to note that Dudley was at a loss for words, and he took another sip of his coffee, another silence setting in.

"What about you, Dud, you hoping to get married and have kids?"

It was like he and Harry hadn't shared a house for sixteen years. "Nah," Dudley replied," it doesn't interest me."

"Aw, come on! Aunt Petunia would die if she didn't get any grandchildren and a daughter-in-law to boss around!"

"Well, that's just how it is," said Dudley firmly, and took another sip of coffee. Why would he want kids? He got confused whenever kids were around, which wasn't much, but a few of the girls from work brought their kids to the little parties that would be held every once in a while. Dudley would often end up having to toss some wired three year old in the air. Being that he was confused a lot anyway, he didn't need to be more baffled. But Harry was right about Mum. She talked about him "settling down" every time he saw her. She was always trying to set him up with her friends' daughters, and being that she didn't have many friends, he had to turn down the same girls a lot. The few he'd met were gum-snapping, pastel-wearing blondes who talked about getting hitched and made stupid little jokes about his muscles.

"So…uh… you didn't really even get into your job," Harry said, detecting that this topic was going sour.

"It's okay. It's really not that exciting. Except…" Dudley paused. If anything, Harry would know who the hell he was talking about if he recounted the evening's adventures. It would be kind of weird, but he'd give it a try. Anyway, it would take up some time, and then hopefully Harry's wife would go into labor so he'd have to go away or something like that. It wasn't bad—it was simply awkward as hell after all these years.

"What?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow. He took another sip of coffee.

"Do you remember Sarah?"

"Sarah who?" Harry replied, putting down his mug.

"Sarah, Sarah," Dudley repeated," from Privet Drive. You know, Sarah?"

Harry shrugged.

"Sarah, my girlfriend from when we were fifteen!"

"Ohhh," Harry said, nodding. "I'd forgotten about Sarah. What about her? You're not seeing _her_ again, are you?"

"Fuck no," Dudley said, "but she was at the club tonight, dancing. It was the first time I'd seen her in like…years. Since like when I was sixteen or something, I don't even remember."

"Weird… did you talk to her?"

"I guess so. She was totally high. I was supposed to do a drug search on her, but she recognized me and sort of went insane. Though I guess that wasn't very different from the old times—"

"If I remember correctly, no, that's not a big difference… But wow. That must have been difficult." Harry actually looked interested, and somewhat concerned.

"Yeah, I had to go outside. I couldn't even stand it. A lot happened back then."

"It really did," Harry said," so she was on drugs?" Dudley nodded. "That's really sad. Did your mum ever find out you were dating her?"

"No way," Dudley said," she got sent off to a correctional school and then she flunked out of that. Then she wasn't around anymore when we moved back to Privet Drive."

Harry was silent for a couple minutes and then cleared his throat. "While we're on the subject, I've got to say that I never told you something about Sarah, and actually, I'd rather forgotten or liked to have forgotten…"

"Oh god. What now?"

"That one night when we all went to the park… you remember, right?"

"Not too clearly," Dudley said honestly.

Harry snickered. "Can't say I'm surprised about that, but anyway… you went to the loo and then Sarah kissed me."

Dudley tried to picture it, though it was hard to think back, but still… The thought of Sarah kissing Harry wasn't all that hard to believe but it still sort of creeped him out. "You serious? After all the shit you slung about her being a slag? And you kissed her?"

"She kissed me," Harry corrected," and anyway, I said a lot of cruel things, but the truth was, she was okay. I mean, at the time, when all I cared about was… that."

"Yeah," Dudley said," she was okay for damn sure."

Harry shook his head, laughing. "So you're not going to throw me out of your house? Big D, the terminator."

"No way. She was probably doing that with everyone. At least I know she and Dennis were doing it. He's a rapist now, by the way. He was on the news just before you came in."

"What? That weirdo bloke you used to run around with? Really? Jesus, Dud, nice friends you had back then. So he was on telly? Did they catch him?"

"Yeah," Dudley nodded.

"Are they all incarcerated now?"

"Naw," Dudley said. "Malcom is working at some music store, I seen him once or twice. And Gordon I haven't seen, but someone from Smeltings saw him working at a grocery store once. And Dennis is a rapist, like I said, and Piers is gay. But that's not new."

"Piers Polkiss is gay?" Harry asked. "I'd have never thought—"

"Yeah, well, I sort of found out that one really bad summer before fifth year."

"That was a bad summer," Harry agreed. "And you blokes didn't kill him?"

"Well, I kept it a secret, and then it didn't matter much after awhile."

"That's commendable, Dudley. It really is. I'd have expected you to take after Uncle Vernon in that area."

"I don't really care about what people are anymore, as long as they don't bother me very much."

Harry grinned. "I guess I agree with that one. So beyond being gay, what is Polkiss up to?"

"No idea," Dudley said," I was supposed to call him like a year ago, but I just didn't get around to it—"

"Just too busy, eh?" Harry said, with a bit of bite to his words.

"Something like that. I don't know. It's like… I don't see him anymore, so what would the point be?"

"He was your best mate—what wouldn't the point be?"

"I guess," Dudley said, thinking that Harry perhaps was right. "Anyway… about back then… You know, when you were living with us?"

"How could I ever forget?"

"Yeah, I know… Anyway, I just have been wanting to say… I mean, I know I told you a little before you went but I've had more time to think about it… I just wanted to say that a lot of stuff I did was really dumb. And stupid. So I'm sorry for that."

"You don't need to keep apologizing, Dudley, honestly, it was years ago. I don't even think about it anymore—"

"Well, I just want you to know… I was pretty much set up to hate you anyway, and I guess Dad was too, all because Mum didn't know how to handle you…"

"It's okay, Dud, it really is."

"All right." Dudley nodded, wishing he had a better way with words, but he'd never been and couldn't hope to become so. Then he remembered he had something for Harry. "Just a sec," he said, and headed to his room. Above the clothes in his closet on the top shelf was an old photo album with a monogram 'L'. He grabbed it and went back out into the living room. "This is for you. I have the matching one that was my mum's. But this one is your mum's. It's kind of girly to have, I know, but the pictures are kinda funny, I guess—"

"What is it?" Harry asked, holding out his hands and opening the album. "Photos of my mum's?" he asked, turning the pages with a smile. "This is excellent, Dudley. Really great. Is that Uncle Vernon?" he asked with a snort.

"Yeah, some suit, huh?"

"Definitely groovy," Harry said, and they both laughed. "And my mum and dad— I've never seen these ones before. All the ones I have are from wizards."

Dudley nodded with a smile, glad he was able to give Harry something worth remembering. They sat around for a bit longer until it became silent again, and then Harry stood up and they both shook hands.

"Well, I've got your address now, so I can send you updates."

"Yeah," Dudley said, though he wondered how interesting that could be.

"Take care of yourself," Harry said.

"Oh sure. You too," Dudley nodded. With that, Harry was gone. Clearing up the coffee mugs, Dudley checked the time from the clock on the microwave. It was ten PM. Probably too late to be calling Piers, but he figured he just might do it in the morning.

--

Keep it short, Dudley told himself. It was the next day, around four PM, and he was eying the phone. He'd had the day off, and was able to get some grocery shopping done, as well as paying his month's rent. Just see how he'd been, say you've been busy. The curiosity had been killing him all night after seeing Sarah, catching a glimpse of Dennis on the nightly news and then talking to Harry. Once one person from the past showed up, it was hard not to be interested about the rest. And Harry was right, anyway. Piers had been his best mate, and if anything, it might be nice to get together for a pint or lunch or something, even just once. As of now, Dudley's social life wasn't all too interesting.

Dudley picked up the phone, hearing the dial tone droning. He dialed the number slowly, as though he might make a mistake. When he'd punched in the last number, he took a deep breath. It was stupid—why should he be nervous? This was Piers. Any second, Piers would pick up and it wouldn't be awkward at all—

"'lo?" said a deep, sort-of murderous voice.

Dudley stared at the receiver. Had he dialed the wrong number? That definitely wasn't Piers, unless Piers was having some sort of problem with his speech. This bloke was speaking in a tone an octave lower than Dudley, for god's sake.

"Hello," Dudley said, trying to match the indifference of the other man's voice. "I think I have the wrong number. I'm calling for Piers Polkiss."

"No. You're all right," said the man, and then he shouted," **PIERS**!"

Dudley winced. He figured his eardrum was beyond repair now. At least he had the right house, though he had no idea who this wally was.

"Just hold on, will you?" said the man, as if he were threatening Dudley. "PIERS! PHONE! ARE YOU HOME?"

Dudley held the phone away from his ear.

"HON! PHONE!"

Hon? Dudley mouthed.

The bloke got back on the phone. "Well, he's always leaving when I'm asleep. You've woken me up, see?"

"Oh… yeah? Sorry."

"Night shift, innit. It sucks monstrous cock."

"Right," Dudley said with a slight laugh.

"Anyway, what was your name?"

"This is Dudley Dursley. Just have him call me sometime when he has a chance. Not a hurry—"

"Dursley? Were you the boxer?"

Dudley nodded, despite the obvious fact that the man on the other line couldn't see him. "Yeah, yeah, that's me."

"Me as well. Second in my school—"

"I was first," Dudley grinned.

"Oh yeah, well, don't be so sure. Your school probably had low standards." But the guy was talking in a lighter tone.

"Probably," Dudley said back, "but anyway, just let him know I called."

"Did you play rugby?" the man asked.

"No—"

"Oh, well, see? I was first in rugby."

"I never really cared much about that sport. Thought it was for wankers."

The bloke snickered. "All right, man. I'll tell him you called." He hung up.

Dudley did, too, wondering if that was Piers' room mate or something. Hon, he'd said. And then, Dudley put two and two together and felt like a complete idiot for not getting it at once. He shook his head, grabbing a cigarette from the table and heading out to the veranda. He had about forty-five minutes until it was time to go next door. Victoria had invited him over for dinner, to thank him for helping her with her boxes, even though he hadn't done very much. It was sort of nice to have something to do. He smoked it fast, wondering if Piers would call back. If he never did, it would probably serve Dudley right.

He went back inside and put on clean jeans and a white dress shirt, a silver chain around his neck. He re-gelled his hair and gave The Eye to his reflection. It wasn't like he really cared how he looked, but it was sometimes an okay thing to give a little effort.

--

"I hope you found the place okay," Victoria said when she answered the door.

"What?" Dudley asked, looking at her, raising his eyebrow. She was looking pretty cute in some tight jeans and an over-sized tank top that showed her pink bra straps.

She laughed. "Come on in. You like meat, I hope?"

"Yeah, I'll eat pretty much anything."

"Good, that's what I like to hear," she said," my ex is a right picky bastard, only liked certain cuts and stuff like that."

"Certain cuts?" Dudley asked, surveying the boxes scattered all over the floor. The television and stereo were both going, and VHS tapes were piled on the carpet.

"Yea'," she answered, eying him like she almost thought she should offer more hospitality before heading back into the kitchen," like, he knew all the best cuts of meat and if it wasn't cooked just to perfection, he got nasty…" She paused awkwardly, looking at the stove. "Got nasty a lot, actually. That's why I'm here."

Dudley knew she was probably expecting him to say something, but all he could do was shrug at her. So she used to run with a bad bloke. Somehow, Dudley wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first time this situation had come up.

Victoria turned back to the oven and switched it off, taking out a pan. "Why am I going on and on to you about my problems? I just met you. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Dudley grunted, heading into the kitchen. "You're not annoying or anything. Looks good," he said, indicating the roast meat in the pan.

"Thanks," she said, turning around and smiling. It was the moment he'd remember for a long time—her skimpy bra and big shirt, the dark makeup around her eyes, the way she looked so flattered. It gave him a weird feeling, like reverse déjà vu, like if he didn't get out of there fast, the inevitable was going to happen.

The dinner was okay—not delicious or great, but nicer than out of a bag or the microwave oven. She didn't talk too much, and she waited tables at a place not too far from the apartment. She was more than delighted when he finished everything she'd put on his plate, and she kept asking him about his work. She seemed rather impressed by it. Victoria was more laid back than any woman he'd met in a long time. She laughed easily, and had the extremely sexy habit of touching Dudley's bicep when she talked, like he was an old friend.

"I was into the wrong stuff all the time," Victoria explained, pouring brandy into two glasses. They had moved from the table to the sofa, so close that their legs were almost touching.

"How do you mean?" he asked, trying to focus on her words, taking a drink from his glass.

"Oh, you know, I got into partying and bad boys, acted like a right little cow. Still paying for it." She leaned back and looked at him, like she was searching him for answers, completely interested.

"Yea'?"

"Yea'," she said. "Some things you do, you can't regret it, but it's hard."

"I know what you mean," Dudley said, and honestly, he did. She was actually making sense to him. Other people usually baffled him to pieces. "It's weird… I was pretty lucky growing up, but I did this teenage chav thing when I was like, turning fifteen, smoked out all the time, talked shit. Totally fucked things up with this one crazy bint I ran with but she didn't deserve it."

"You sure we didn't know each other, Big D?" Victoria said playfully.

"Naw," he said, "I'd have remembered you. But we know each other now."

It wasn't clear who leaned over first, but all at once, Dudley was kissing her, all the while wondering why he often got himself into these complicated situations. A neighbor girl was definitely not the most ideal woman to candoodle with—after all, if things went sour, she'd be just next door.

It was past ten when he went back to his apartment, with a promise that he'd take her out on his next day off to a film. He had a strange feeling—not bad but not good. The past couple of days had been pretty damned strange. But he'd learned at least that he'd moved away from his past enough to be someone he was proud of.

He grabbed his pack of smokes and headed out to the balcony. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, watching the traffic down on the street. When he was halfway finished with it, the phone rang from the kitchen. Dudley exhaled and flicked his butt off the balcony, sending one last glance at the London skyline.


	31. Epilogue

**an: **I wrote this like, 800 years ago. Forgive the wait. I want to thank all my readers, reviewers, people mentioned previously who helped me, life in general, I guess. Thank you to my real-life Sarahs, though you probably don't know who you are. I could say a lot about how writing this helped me deal with my own weird life but that would take too much time. J.K. Rowling, you were my idol up until the last two books but that has more to do with me growing up than you- thanks for letting us use your characters so freely. Yes, and if you knew me within this past year, you're probably in here somewhere.

* * *

_Chapter 31—Epilogue_

-FIFTEEN YEARS LATER-

Dudley Dursley was thirty seven years of age, and although the years had not changed his appearance completely, they had sculpted him into an adult-type person. His blond hair was clipped short against his thick neck, going gray in one or two places around his ears. Years of weight lifting and sports had given him even larger muscles, and he did more than tower—he intimidated. The thing that saved him from looking completely ferocious was his token facial expression: a half-smile that could either be taken for sarcasm or uttermost confusion. It masked his temper, which mostly lay dormant, springing up only when he was annoyed or offended. At the moment, he was neither, sitting on the edge of the long gray couch, watching the end of a rugby match rerun on the television. Every so often, he would shout out in disdain. In the corner of the large room was a decked out Christmas tree with loads and loads of presents underneath it. The decorations were completely parallel, and all in white, as though straight out of a holiday magazine. It was obvious, in other words, that Dudley had had nothing to do with the decorating of the thing.

There were photographs of several children along the mantle, all blond and mostly broad. Mark was the eldest, at fourteen. Standing only a few inches under his dad, he definitely looked the most like Dudley around that age, though as with the rest of the kids, in much healthier shape. He was obsessed with sports, cars, weight-lifting, the worst girls, and had a very bad attitude. His most recent attempt at doing something "cool" was vandalizing the neighbors' lawn gnomes, which had resulted in heightening the feud between Dudley and Mr-Next-Door. Mark had three girlfriends, all of whom were, by some great or terrible coincidence, named Shelly. All three were banned from the house.

Joshua was next, at eleven. He was also large and stocky, attempted to be better at sports than his older brother, and loved whining about pretty much every topic known to man. He was especially talented at running into hard things like doors and breaking them.

Nine year old Colin, though still properly stocky in the Dursley boy fashion, was the smallest and youngest of the boys, and somehow, he'd ended up a nerd who liked playing handheld games and sleeping in the forts he liked to make. Dudley blamed Harry for all of these peculiarities and he often harped at Colin to "make something" of himself. Dudley's ideas so far regarding Colin "making something" of himself included: getting dirty, getting fresh air, getting lost somewhere outdoors, and not crying at sappy commercials. So far, none of this had panned out.

The last of the Dursley brood was Christine, who was five, skinny and so much of a girly girl that it was almost a joke. She was definitely Dudley's little princess, and she was treated as such at every possible moment. It is needless to say that Christine's future as a young woman was going to be a tough one— Dudley would definitely not be keen on her dating when the time came.

Also in these family pictures was a short, leggy woman with black feathered hair, who was Dudley's wife, naturally. Her name was Davan, and she was, first and foremost, a girl jock. She had met Dudley twelve years prior at a sporting match where she'd been cheering on England with her girlfriends in the front. Dudley had been encouraged to make a pass at all of them by a slightly drunk David, Piers' boyfriend, while Piers had looked on in amusement and humiliation for his friend. When Davan got over how stupid Dudley's pick-up lines were and picked up on the fact that he was an ex-boxer, a single dad, and in training for a high end position at a firm called Grunnings, she'd given him a chance. She was different from all of Dudley's exes in the way that she was financially stable, sharp, and wasn't out looking to be protected. She was a dietician from a fairly rich family, which meant that Vernon at once loved her, and Petunia hated her (first off, for stealing away her Dudders, and then for wearing much more expensive shoes than she'd ever worn even though she'd never really been a shoe kind of woman). Petunia's world had all ready turned upside down when Dudley had gotten Victoria pregnant, after a mutual decision (or so he claimed), and they had split up soon afterward. Though she'd hated Victoria immensely for her low class background and "chavvy dress sense", she hated Davan more for making it even more obvious that Dudley's first serious relationship had failed, particularly whenever it was brought up that Mark was her "stepson." As for their general well being, Dudley's parents were fine. Petunia was one of those women whose age had not affected her appearance. She still wore her hair in the same cut, and secretly dyed it blond. Vernon was still working at Grunnings and breaking household appliances.

The wedding had been ornate, obviously, and since Davan and Petunia were equally matched in their levels of perfectionism (though they'd never admit to being alike), it was appropriately nerve-racking, with tension at every turn. Dudley had wanted the wedding ceremony to be held in Privet Park "sort of", and so his opinion about everything was quickly disregarded. Davan had advocated for it being in her old church, so of course Petunia had voted for a church across town. What was lucky was the fact that Davan's mother had been dead for twenty years, and her father was an easy going man who simply liked pubs and a good time. Finally, it was decided that the wedding should take place in the Dursleys' back yard because no one was really coming, anyway. It turned out that Davan had been pretty spoiled in her youth, and hadn't really kept many of her old mates. She had three bridesmaids and Dudley had Piers, David and Sean, a friend from when he'd been working at the club. Mo attended with her roommate Sylvia and laughed when Petunia openly disagreed with her shaved head. Two year old Mark had worn a little tux and had fussed and sobbed in Petunia's arms throughout the whole thing, which everyone thought was really cute. There was a huge, expensive cake and tons of catered food. The next door neighbors were peeking over their fences the whole time.

"_Mum! _Where's my black jumper? I don't want to wear this stupid green one!" came Joshua's voice from out in the hall.

"You're not wearing _black _to a Christmas party. Honestly. You'll look like a rain cloud. Now, go on and get dressed. Breakfast is ready," Davan replied, and anyone who knew her would be able to discern that she was rolling her blue eyes to the ceiling. Dudley knew that right away, so he instead kept focusing on the television.

"_You're _wearing a black _dress!" _Joshua whined.

Davan was thwarted for a moment before she gave the end-all response: "I'm the mum!"

Joshua fake cried for awhile, until Mark strolled up behind him and slammed his fist into Joshua's arm. Then Joshua began to scream, and they started wrestling on the floor.

"STOP!" Davan hollered, tearing Joshua away from Mark, since he was slightly smaller. "Get dressed, Joshua. Go! And Mark, stop winding him up!"

Mark immediately stopped poking his brother. "I wasn't doing anything!" he snapped.

She sighed. "Just go and get started on breakfast."

"I'm not eating in there with you people," said Mark.

"You're not eating in front of the telly, either," Davan told him sharply. "I told you I was sick of you doing that, sitting like a lump all the time when you should be out training—"

"It's break for Christ sake!" Mark snapped.

"You're not to speak to me that way, I've told you!" she told him, shaking her finger.

"I don't give a shit, do I?" As soon as he said it, his eyes flickered to Dudley, who was no longer focused on the television.

"You better not have said what I just thought you said," Dudley said darkly, his voice loud.

"_Oooh!" _Joshua cheered, grabbing Mark by the arm and pulling him.

"I didn't. I didn't say anything," Mark lied, shoving Joshua away. Joshua began to cry, pretending of course.

"_I didn't say anything," _Dudley copied. "You said something, though. I heard it. And apologize to your brother."

"He isn't even HURT!" Mark exclaimed.

"Just go get ready for Uncle Harry's!" Dudley said, frusterated.

Muttering angrily, Mark stormed down the hallway, kicking various toys as he did so. When Joshua immediately stopped his crocodile tears, Dudley gave him a warning look before he tore away.

"What is this mess?" Dudley demanded. "Everyone was supposed to be dressed and ready—"

"Well, thank you for rousing yourself from your throne, we sure appreciated your help out here in the real world," Davan said, her eyes lowering.

Dudley kissed her on the forehead. "It seemed like it. Now let's see if I can get this house in order."

"Oh please," she said, but she was laughing.

"Colin!" Dudley said loudly, as they walked past their son's bedroom where he was at his desk with a book. "Are you dressed and ready?"

Colin jumped up to show that he was.

"That makes one. Get a move on to the kitchen, your mum has breakfast ready."

Wordlessly, Colin exited his room and walked in front of his parents. From the room to the left, Christine emerged wearing a pink, frilly dress complete with a tiara.

"I put _out _your outfit," Davan said, frustrated.

"I dressed myself!" Christine exclaimed, jumping into Dudley's arms.

"I don't see what's wrong with it. It's not as though we're going somewhere important."

"I just hope this phase is over soon," Davan said aloud, marching ahead.

Mark was trying to make off with a plate of eggs back into the television room, and so Dudley had to talk him into staying, which took a great deal of arguing. As Davan divided up fruit, egg white omelets and milk, the conversation was as explosive as ever.

"No one ever plays with me!" Christine was saying.

"We're going to Clarice's house this coming weekend," Davan explained, "and you and Rebecca can have a play date." Clarice lived just about an hour away and had two very pristine little girls, and an equally perfect husband. They were always polite but mortified when the Dursleys came to call. It was sort of obvious that Clarice's husband had a thought or two about Dudley ("bloke always looks like he's just left the pub!").

Christine looked satisfied.

"I told you, no books at the table!" Dudley hissed at Colin, who made a face.

"If you had your way," he said darkly," there would be no books in the world at all."

"Are you trying to insult me?" Dudley asked dully.

Colin sighed. "No, Dad."

"Do we really have to go to Uncle Harry's? They're weird over there," said Joshua.

"Yes, we really have to go. And I couldn't agree more."

"_Dudley," _Davan said bitterly. She didn't really like Harry or Ginny either, but she didn't tolerate negativity very well.

"I could beat James up so easily," Joshua shrugged.

Dudley laughed.

"No one's beating up anyone, Josh," Davan said," isn't that right, Dudley?"

"Yeah, that's uh… right."

"You used to beat people up all the time!" Joshua said. "And you were great at it! Tell us the story where you knock that boy's teeth out!"

Dudley gave him a Look.

"Wasn't that Uncle Harry?" asked Christine.

"I don't recall," Dudley said, overly interested now in his coffee.

On the other end of the table, Davan was trying to make peace with Mark, who wasn't biting. "I know you've been missing your mum lately," she said lightly, "and sometime this week, we'll be taking you over for a stay with her."

Mark nodded, hardly listening.

"You know, it's just as hard for me sometimes," she said. "Your mum's a good person, though, she's—"

"STOP TALKING ABOUT HER!" Mark yelled, standing up. "You don't even _know _her! Why are you always trying to talk about her?"

"**I WILL NOT TAKE ANY YELLING AT THE TABLE!" **Dudley yelled.

Christine began to cry. Joshua looked horrified. Colin picked up his book again and read the page he'd left off on. Davan moved to Christine and comforted her, all the while giving Dudley the evil eye.

Mark's eyes brimmed with tears, though he quickly blinked them away. "YOU'RE NEVER ON MY SIDE! YOU'RE AN IDIOT!"

"I swear, Mark, if you keep talking, you'll be in huge trouble!" Dudley boomed, standing up, all six foot five of him.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I just quit talking forever!"

"It would be a lot nicer around here!"

Mark picked up his plate and stalked into the kitchen, dropping it into the sink. He walked off to his room and slammed the door, which shook the house.

"Well, at least he's being quiet," Dudley shrugged. This evoked a long, hard stare from his wife.

When the family went searching for Mark and found him at the park across the street, they finally took off to Harry's house, a strange, many-layered freakshow that was filled with magical Things and crazy contraptions (and much quieter children). It was always nice to get back home, where everything was just as it should be.

* * *

**Piers Polkiss **works as a special effects artist on independent films, specializing in gore and macabre in the horror genres. He's known for his keen recipe for surprisingly life-like guts. His most celebrated film to date has been a zombie movie entitled "Carnage Moonlit Heat", which received mixed reviews and began a cult following. He lives with his partner, outside of Surrey. Though he and Dudley never fully reconnect, they will meet time and time again to reminisce about Privet Drive.

**Clarice Ryan **is happily married to a man named Charles who is possibly the nicest bloke of all time. He is shy, pleasant, agreeable, and co-owns a bookstore. They have two daughters. Clarice works as head buyer for a boutique in London, and often thinks about Dudley when she sees the leather displays, and every time some good for nothing chavvy tries to steal from the jewelry department. She and Dudley set up play dates for their children, though none of them get along very well.

**Carly Conner**, Malcom's sister, spends her free time as a censorship activist, and is the head mistress of an all girls' school.

**Colin Bard **used his scholarship to obtain a degree in the History of Anthropology. He's written three books concerning human nature, and currently lives in France with his equally brilliant (and equally hoity, truth be told) wife Fiona and their two sons. He is fluent in ten languages, including Latin, and he plans to "revolutionize the way people think about other people."

**Malcom Conner **finally got laid.

**Dennis Clarke **is in prison, held for charges of robbery, possession of a firearm, and rape. He will be let out the day after his thirtieth birthday.

**Gordon Trout **works as a police officer.

**Harry Potter**, Dudley's cousin, married a childhood friend, and resides happily with his magical children. He sees Dudley only on holidays.

**Sarah Cleelvans** got released from jail at age twenty-six and now lives in Surrey with her mother and son Jonathan. Sarah is trying to get a job as a clerk in a grocery store, but she still struggles with her habits. She isn't sure who Jonathan's father is. She will see Dudley again, many times, but he will not see her—she always makes sure she's hidden whenever she spots him in London.

* * *


End file.
